Princess Of Fire And Ice
by InkWeaverabc
Summary: Many judge Arya for her actions and choices, but she has her own perspective of the events taking place around her, and her own reasons for acting as she does. Kplus for fear, pain, etc. ExA eventually, but IC, I hope! Please R&R. Brisingr now complete.
1. Fire

Arya ran, stooping low, heels thudding on bare earth. Heat was all around her, fire on every side, before and behind. She ran on, clutching to her chest her precious burden. She stumbled, the way ahead blurred with tears. _Faolin..._ _No!_ The trees screamed at her as the devouring flames licked at their dry boughs. Her heart pounded, her chest ached. Pain... Grief...burning..._How did they know? How did they find us?_ Black figures closing in behind... _Focus! _She told herself fiercely, as her iron core dragged her back to the present. _Concentrate! Don't let him have __died __in vain. There must be a way out... there always is... _She whirled around, hair slicing her face, damp with sweat._ No... There was no way..._ The flames were all around her now, cutting off her every escape. She drew herself up to her full height and stared with all the defiance she could muster at the tall dark figure approaching her. Her mind raced. _What could she do? Send it... Where? _There was no-one in a thousand miles... Unbidden, an image swam up in her mind... a face... She dragged herself back to stare at the man. The light was behind him, she could not see his face... but...there was only one thing to do now...only one way out...even if it cost her her life... _Remember the words..._ She yanked open the bag, pulling out the thing that was so special, the thing Glenwing and Faolin had died for, the thing she had sworn to protect with her life. For the briefest of moments she stared into its blue depths and whispered a blessing..._Go where fate sends you... Find him!..._ desperately she gabbled the spell, tongue stumbling in her haste... that would not do... but then she felt the rush of energy leaving her body, and knew it was gone. For a moment intense relieve swept over her, despite everything, but then the heat was too close, all round, more than she could bear, and everything went black.

**A.N. The elf with Arya and Faolin was called Glenwing, wasn't he? I don't have access to the book at the moment, so if I'm wrong could anyone correct me, I would be much obliged. I will update as soon as I can. Thank you! P.S This is book-based, not film, for those of you that are thinking, 'hang on, didn't she talk to Durza…'**


	2. Darkness

**A.N. Thanks for the reviews. I hope this is all right, I don't think it's as good as the last. Anyway, enjoy. Oh, Yeah, I do not own any of these characters, or anything.**

Arya floated in darkness. She breathed very little, and thought even less, conserving what little strength she had left.

How long she had been like this she could not say.

Occasionally, her brain registered things happening around her, outside her body. Where she was, or who she was with, if not the shade, she had no idea. Some time ago, what seemed like so long, she had felt her wounds -the external ones- being healed, and at the time, it had seemed very important, but now, she knew it was futile. She did not understand why she was not being tortured any more. But it did not matter now. She was dieing anyway. She felt the poison in her, sapping at her strength day by day, pulling at the magic in her blood to do its deadly work. Soon nothing would matter any more. Soon she would fall into the eternal blackness. In her more clear moment she realized that this was the poison doing this to her, this was not her normal attitude, this couldn't be her, it was the curse- she could no longer call it poison- was speaking for her, taking over her. At the start of her coma, she had sensed something near her, a thing full of magic, and at first she had feared the obvious, that the shade had made good his threat, and she was now in the company of Galbatorix himself, but as the days -she assumed they were days, there was no way of telling in her state of constant darkness- past, she came to realize that couldn't be true. The power she felt was not malignant, or twisted, as she thought Galbatorix would be. It was old, certainly, but indefinably, yet unquestionably _good._ But that was so long ago. She couldn't feel it now. She could feel nothing now.

But it was not until many days later that anything happened to change the relentless darkness and slipping farther from life, pulled away from the air.


	3. Testing

_Clang!!_ Sword met sword in a shower of sparks. Arya spun away, fighting down a surge of frustration. Was the boy so stupid? Why wouldn't he fight her? But as she came around, she found herself blocking a fierce attack from Zar'roc. She swung again, and he blocked, then retaliated, thrusting and diving. He was good, for a human. Very good. She moved away, her feet beating a rapid pattern on the grass. They began to fight in earnest, ducking, swinging, coming round to attack again and again. Closer, then farther away then close again, as their momentum carried them, but never still. Arya concentrated all her energy and focus on the task at hand, ignoring everything else. As she moved round, she caught brief glimpses of faces staring out of the corners of her eyes. Half the field seemed to have come to gawp, but she refused to let it distract her. She rejoiced in the exercise, the energy coursing through her chasing away the pain and stiffness of lying in the same position for weeks on end. They continued fighting, locked in a deadly dance, but Arya could feel Eragon weakening. If it came down simply to stamina, to which of them could keep this up longest, she would win. He was the best fighter of any human she had fought in a long time, but that was it. He was human. Already he was slowing, and Arya saw the opening coming before it happened. She stepped forward, under the sweep of his blade, and brought the point of her sword to touch his neck. It was over, too quickly. He lowered Zar'roc, breathing hard. Sweat had made his hair stick to his cheeks. He did not look at her, shoulders slumped, Zar'roc hanging loosely in one hand. Arya took a deep breath, and spoke. "You have passed." She kept her face dead straight, but inside, her heart was exulting. Brom had taught the boy well. She turned away, allowing herself a little secret smile.

Perhaps they had a chance, after all.

**A.N. Did you like the end? Was it too un-Arya-like? Is that even a word? I love drables, I can write them so quickly!**


	4. Sacrifice

Arya leaned against the stone rail, gasping and clutching a stitch at her side. She took advantage of the brief respite to scan the crowds of fighting men below. She had never known such madness. Even though she had been with the Varden for more than seventy years, she had never been in such a battle as this. And still they came. Black clad men and urgals poured constantly into the massive black chasm, though the flow was slowing now. To her right, Saphira shifted uneasily. "Can you see him?" Arya asked. _No. _Saphira's voice echoed in Arya's head, filled with barely concealed anxiety. _Where is that stupid boy? He'll get himself killed if I'm not there! _Arya smiled, and then was surprised. She hadn't thought she had that in her.

She turned back to regarding the crowds below. She and Saphira were in the dragon holds above Farthen Dur, scratching a breath. Saphira shuffled again then uttered a low growl. Arya knew the wound in her chest was giving her much pain, and the heavy armour, which had been protection, was now nothing but a dead weight, making it worse. "Do you want me to take the armour off?" Arya asked. _Yes. _Saphira growled. _But do it quickly. _Arya worked fast, her fingers trembling, to pull at the heavy fastenings. As the thick metal gave way, Arya buckled under the weight. "How do you wear this stuff?" She murmered. Saphira didn't answer. She arched her long neck, staring down towards the great red dome of Isthar Mithrim, the star sapphire, casting its red light upwards, and suddenly, the emotions of fear and pain and worry for Eragon coursing through her changed. Arya felt it at once. "Have you-" Saphira didn't let her finish. _He's there! _Arya stared down. Beneath the flickering shadows of the star sapphire she saw- or thought she saw, two figures, fighting. One was Eragon. The other- "Oh, no! That's-" _Durza. _Saphira finished grimly. "But how will we get down there? He can't last much longer…" Then she saw Saphira's thoughts.

_There's nothing else to do._ She said simply. Arya knew she was right. There was nothing else to do. But to… Her resolve stiffened. She climbed on to Saphira. _Are you sure you can… _Began Saphira, but Arya didn't listen. "Don't waste time!" She said brusquely. "Let's get this over with." Saphira nodded once, pushed away from the rock, up into the air. She hung there for a split second, then dropped like a stone.

They were going to break the star sapphire.

**A.N. I changed this because the other was inaccurate, I don't have the book of Eragon, though I have Eldest and Brisingr. So I wrote it based on my rather dim recolection of this scene in the book. Then I was in the library, and I read it. So it is altered. **


	5. Victory

As Arya plummeted downwards, all she could think of was the utter madness of this scheme of Saphira's. Break the star sapphire? Even if she survived this, Durza would kill them after he had finished Eragon, and even if, by some miracle, Eragon defeated Durza and they succeeded in their crazy plan, even then, the dwarves would kill them. Hrothgar would personally flay them alive. But it was too late for that now. All she could do was hang on tight and hold on to her breakfast. Not that she had eaten much.

As the smooth red dome of Isthar Mithrim approached (after what seemed an impossibly long time) Arya raised one hand and drew on the magic inside her. Her palm glowed green, and she felt the power building up inside her, fighting to be released. _Arya! _Saphira screamed in her head. But Arya waited until the last minuet, as until she almost have touched the sapphire before she screamed, "_JIERDA!"_

In a huge burst of green energy, Isthar Mithrim crumpled like paper, exploding downwards as though it had suddenly turned to liquid. Saphira kept on going, diving down, the bright blue of her scales contrasting violently with the star sapphire's dawn-red pieces.

As the red shards flew round her, Arya felt a pang. Though her regard for Isthar Mithrim was nothing to what the dwarves felt, she had lived with them, in this city, under this stone for a very long time, and she had an elf's abhorrence for destroying a thing of beauty. But there was nothing to be done. It was life or death for Eragon, and by extension, the rest of Alagaesia. She just hoped Hrothgar would understand that.

As they continued in what felt to Arya sickeningly like freefall, (But what she knew, or hoped, was a controlled dive) she saw the shade turn and stare upwards in disbelief. She saw Eragon raise himself from his half-crouching altitude, and bring up his sword. She saw him yelling something indistinguishable over the noise. She saw the sword burst into flame along its entire length…

And she saw Eragon lunge foreward to stab Durza through the heart.

The shade looked down at Zar'roc sticking out of his chest. Arya was to far away to see his face, but his body language spoke disbelief and rage. He clawed at the sword, but it was already too late. His entire body was ripped apart from head to foot, and three black shapes, like smoke, curled away from him, abandoning the body they had imprisoned.

They were approaching the caves floor now, still with the remains of Isthar Mithrim around them, hurtling towards the ground, and Eragon. Before Arya had time to think, she had acted on impulse. She raised a hand, drew on the last strength in her body, and murmured _"Kodthr un malthinae" _the strength left her body in a rush. Through her overwhelming exhaustion, she saw Eragon keel over, and fall to the floor. What wounds he had received, she did not know. But he was safe now. That was what mattered. And as she slowly lowered the broken remains of Isthar Mithrim to the floor, another emotion was in her. Satisfaction. Her tormenter, Durza, was dead. That might cause the king a few headaches, anyway.

**A.N. Gosh that was long! Don't know if it actually qualifies as a drable, but oh, well, who cares.  
By the way, **_**Jierda **_**means to break or hit, and **_**Kodthr un malthinae**_** means 'catch and hold' Really, truly! **

**I have 4 things to say.  
1. I am going on holiday next week, and where I am going, there will be no internet access. I will however, have a computer with me, so I will be writing there. So when I get back, there will be more.  
2. I would really love if anyone has any ideas for drables for Arya if they could tell me.  
3. Thanks for the lovely reviews, keep it up!  
4. go and vote on my poll on my profile page, please! That's all I think.**


	6. Anger

As Arya listened to Saphira, She had to use all her self-control to keep her face straight. _Very well. _She said grimly as Saphira finished. _I'll talk to both of you later. In the library._

As Saphira withdrew, Arya became aware that Falberd was talking to her. "Will the elves find this agreeable?" He asked. Arya cursed inside, while she turned her studiously inscrutable countenance on him. _What do you expect me to say?_ She thought angrily. When she could trust herself to speak, she said the only thing possible, what he and the rest of the council had known she would. Lifting an eyebrow, she spoke quietly. "I cannot speak for my queen, but I find nothing objectionable to it. Nasuada has my blessing." As she finished, the council showed signs of obvious relief and pleasure at her words. _Satisfied now?_ She demanded silently.

"Thank you, Arya." Nasuada murmured, then said, "Is there anything else that must be discussed? For I am weary." _I'm sure you are _thought Arya with a surge of sympathy. She had observed on the way that Nasuada seemed pale and tired. The death of her father had taken its toll on her. There was a little more talking, but then the council got up to leave. Arya was last at the door. As she turned to go, one hand on the door, she looked at Eragon, a little of the worry and anxiety she was feeling surfaced on her face. She looked down, and left the room.

As Arya walked away from the council room and towards the library, the worry began to turn to frustration, then to anger. Her anger was aimed at the council, Eragon, Saphira, even, irrationally, at Ajihod, for dying and leaving her in this mess with two incompetents who had no idea how to act, but she soon repented of that thought. Ajihod certainly had not intended this. How could he?

But even without Ajihod, there were plenty of people to be angry with, not least herself. Why hadn't she warned Eragon about this? And now, everything could be ruined. One thought filled her head. _Wasted._ All the time she had spent in this damp, dark cave, away from the trees and sky, away from her people, with these _dwarves. _Wasted. What had Eragon done? What had he promised the council? So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that she hardly noticed when she reached the library. She crossed to the back of the large room, sat down, and tried to gather her thoughts.

_Breathe deeply _she told herself.


	7. Apologies

**That last got just too long, so I split it into two.**

Arya stared at Eragon and Saphira coming towards her, and turned towards them. When they stopped in front of her, she asked, "What have you done?" Eragon frowned, clearly at a loss, and Arya fought down the urge to scream. _Stupid boy! What do you know?_ "What have you promised the council? What have you done?" She only realized after she had spoken that her words had breached the gap of their minds. But she couldn't help it. She took a deep breath. Eragon was speaking. "We only did what we had to. I'm ignorant of elves' customs, so if our actions upset you, I apologize. There's no cause to be angry." _No cause to be angry!_ Before she had meant to, Arya was speaking again, informing him furiously of just what he didn't know about her. When she was done, Eragon told her what had occurred. It was better than she had feared. At least he had not promised the council his allegiance to them, and the way he had thought to undermine them impressed Arya, though she didn't want to admit it. _He learns fast. _"So." She was not going to let him know her thoughts. She wasn't quite as impressed as that. "So." He agreed. She leaned back and studied him, then began to speak again. After a few more minutes of conversation, Arya had almost completely recovered from her burst of anger.

"…May the stars watch over you." She finished, and moved away from them into the shadowy library.


	8. Farewell

As Arya stared down into Ajihad's calm face, she felt tears behind her eyes. They wouldn't fall, she knew that – Arya hadn't cried since she was ten years old- but even so, she swallowed down the lump in her throat. He looked so peaceful, more peaceful than he had looked since he had assumed command of the Varden. Arya remembered him before that. She remembered the day he had come to the Varden, a young man on the point of exhaustion, carrying a tiny black baby under his arm. Where had he come from? It was only now, as she looked at the face that would never talk again, that she realised how little she knew of him. He had rarely talked of his life before he had been accepted by- his predecessor. He had given his life to their cause.

_Oh, Ajihad. How will we go on with out you? _She did not know. But there was one last thing she could do for him. As she moved away from the coffin, she lifted her face to the dark, cavernous ceiling of the cave. _Ajihad, if you can hear me, I swear to you, I will do everything I can to protect Nasuada, and the Varden. Eragon is young, and he knows little of what he must do, but I will help him all I can. Be at peace. You can do no more for us, but you did so much. _Arya shook her head at her own foolishness. How could she think he had heard her? The elves did not believe spirits remained in this world when their bodies had died, but still, it comforted her, a little. And it was true. From now, it would be down to her to protect Nasuada and Eragon. Whatever it took.


	9. Nervous

As leaves closed overhead, Arya grew steadily tenser. The green trees she was passing under eased her heart a little, it was so long since she had been here, but the writhing pain in her stomach would not go away. _You are being a fool._ She told herself, but fear is difficult to shrug off lightly, and this was no small anxiety. Arya knew that much depended on Eragon's first meeting with her mother, but that, if she was honest, was not why she was nervous. It was so long. So long since she had stood in the presence of her mother and queen, or even another elf. This realization brought little comfort. She was sure she would do something stupid.

Arya ate little, seriously thinking that if she did, it would come right back up. This conviction only increased as they drew closer to the centre of Ellesmira. She knew that she was being short and terse with Eragon and the dwarves, snapping and answering with a word, or silence, and she was sorry, but she couldn't help it. If she opened up any more than absolutely necessary, she would scream, or even break down and cry. She wished for neither instance. The only thing that kept her together was the running. It eased her fear, the constant rhythm and silence calming her mind and loosening her tense muscles.


	10. Hopeless

**A.N. While Eragon and Arya are travelling to Ellesmira with Orik and the other dwarves, Eragon has a seizure whilst practising sword-fighting. **

As Arya watched, Eragon steadily increased his speed, fighting against invisible foes. _He's really not bad._ She thought, though she kept it to herself. And Eragons skill would not help him against an elf, or another shade. He was simply to slow. And of course, there was- As if Arya thoughts had brought it on, Eragon buckled, pain spreading across his face as he dropped Zar'roc and began to fall forward. Arya started up, but was too late. Before she reached him, he lay on the grass, his whole body twisted in pain. Behind her, Orik and Thorv began to speak, but she ignored them, concentrating on Eragon. As she lifted his head, his eyes closed, and he lay still.

With the dwarves help, Arya managed to move Eragon to his tent, and lay him down. Saphira sat by him, and did not answer when Arya tried to speak to her. She stared unblinkingly at Eragon, though what she was trying to do escaped Arya. Gloom covered the camp, and no-one felt much like eating the meal Thorv had prepared.

Saphira broke into Arya sleepy thoughts. _Arya! He's waking! _Arya started fully awake, and watched as Eragon twisted slightly. His eyes opened, and he looked at Saphira. Arya didn't hear what passed between them, but a moment later, he looked at her. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and full of pain. "How can I train?... How can I fight or use magic?...I am a broken vessel." He looked so young and helpless. Arya felt sad, knowing she had no answer to this question, but wishing with all her heart she did. "You can sit and watch. You can listen. You can read. And you can learn." Even as she spoke the words, she knew how futile they sounded. He turned away, pain and despair written all over his face. "How did the shade do this to me?" She wished she could tell him. _I do not know Eragon… how I wish I did._ "I have no answers, Eragon. I am neither the wisest nor the strongest elf…_Whatever you may think. _We all do our best, and you cannot be blamed for it. Perhaps time will heal your wound." It was empty comfort, but the best she could give. In her heart, however, she did not think it likely. The wound went too deep, was too powerful. If nothing changed, eventually it would destroy him. Casting away her morbid thoughts, Arya laid her hand on Eragon's forehead. It was hot to her touch. Reverting to her own tongue, she murmured, "Se mor'ranr ono finna" She stood, turned, and left the tent. Sitting down among the dwarves by the fire, Arya's head filled with gloomy thoughts. _The sooner we get to Ellesmira the better…_But Ayra knew, even in Ellesmira, Eragon would be no better. There was no way he could recover, aside of a miracle. _A miracle… _Thought Arya ruefully. _We could all use a miracle._

**A.N. Se mor'ranr ono finna: May you find peace.**


	11. Mother

The room was filled with elves, but Arya saw only one face. Islanzadi seated on her throne, her cloak of swan feathers folded round her shoulders, filled Arya's vision. As she moved through the room towards the throne, Arya's heart quickened. _Relax._ She told herself. _Deep Breaths. _Then, _she doesn't look well._ As they came before the Queen, the small group respectfully knelt. Arya lowered her eyes to the floor. She heard nothing but the blood pounding in her ears, and saw all the elf elders seated around only from the corners of her eyes. Then she felt hands on her shoulders and the rich, melodious voice she knew better than her own say, "Rise" By a supreme effort of will Arya rose and looked back into her mother's face. She was terrified of what she would see there, but reflected in the face so similar to her own was only concern. That was some relief, but now, the nervousness was being overtaken by anger. _Look well, Mother._ She thought bitterly. _You've seen little enough of me these past years._

Islanzadi gave a little cry and pulled Arya to her. "Oh my daughter, I have wronged you!" Arya felt her mother's arms around her, and for a moment, she wanted nothing but to return the embrace, and forget all the years of separation, all the hurt. But then she remembered Durza, and couldn't. She drew back ever so slightly, so slightly that no-one except Islanzadi could possibly notice, and said "Islanzadi Drottning." _Queen Islanzadi. _Islanzadi drew back as if she had been stung, and for a moment, Arya felt terrible. Then the queen repeated, in the ancient language, "Oh my daughter, I have wronged you!" She lowered her face into her hands. "Ever since you disappeared, I have barely slept or eaten. _Really? _I was haunted by your fate, and feared I would never see you again. Banning you from my presence was the worst mistake I have ever made… Can you forgive me?" _Why should I forgive you? Would you forgive me the same 'mistake'?_ But even as she thought it to herself, the words sounded petty and bitter. _She's my mother. My only family. How can I not forgive her? But even so…seventy years! _"For seventy years I have lived and loved, fought and killed without ever speaking to you, my mother. Our lives are long, but even so, that is no small span."_ It's more than half my life_. Islanzadi lifted her chin slightly. The small gesture did little to improve Arya's temper. _She is so proud…_"I cannot undo the past, Arya, no matter how much I might desire to." "And I cannot forget what I endured." "Nor should you." Arya's mother clasped her daughter's hands in hers, and Arya allowed them to be taken. "Arya, I love you. You are my only family. Go if you must, but unless you wish to renounce me, I would be reconciled with you."_ What? Oh, very clever mother, very clever indeed._ But that was so like Islanzadi. Arya glanced around briefly. All the elves were staring, and her next words would be heard by all. Her mother had backed her into this position. She had two options. She could say, in front of all these elves, and Eragon and Saphira that she would not forgive her mother, and most likely never see her again. Or she could forgive. Arya sighed. All the fight hand gone out of her. She looked down at her hands, still being held by her mothers, and said quietly, "No mother. I could not leave." She felt her mother's arms round her again, and this time, she returned the embrace. All the pain flowed away, and Arya felt happier than she had in a long time. As Islanzadi turned to face Eragon and Saphira, Arya turned with her. For a moment, she saw his face.

It was so shocked, she almost laughed.

**A.N. Ok, so it's long. So what? I had to have this scene, and I had to have all of it. There wasn't much I could do about that. I hope I did justice to it, that's all.**


	12. Home

_I am home._

As Arya moved between trees under the canopy of the forest Ellesmira was grown from, she felt a peace settle over her she had not felt since Gil'ead. Elves called out greetings in the ancient language as she passed, and the very trees seemed to be glad to see her. The earth felt warm and firm under her bare feet, and leaves brushed her face, soft as swan's feathers. Like Islanzadi's cloak. Arya smiled as she saw before her were she was going. Passing through Tialdari Hall, she pushed aside the screen door to her rooms. As the door fell into place behind her, peace settled over the room, the sounds of elves talking and singing muffled. Arya moved slowly through her chambers, touching everything to reacquaint herself with home. She picked up her glass ball with Faolin's flower in it and carried it, tossing it idly from hand to hand as she walked to the living room. There she paused before the two fairthes, one of Evandar, the other of Faolin. Some of the happiness in her evaporated as she looked at their faces, long gone and buried. She lifted a hand and laid it on Faolin's painted face. The fairth was cool and smooth beneath her fingers. _I miss you… Both of you._ She drew her hand down quickly, shaking her head a little to dispel the thoughts. Crying over what was past would help no-one.

Arya crossed to the other side of the room, and looked out of the window over all Ellesmira. Her room was on the edge of Tialdari hall, so she could look out into the forest. Arya leaned against the windowsill and smiled.

_I am home._


	13. Linnea

There was silence for a moment as Arya concluded her tale. She looked straight at Eragon, but he avoided her gaze, looking down from the tree's root they were perched on. _Do I have to spell this out for you?_ "Do you think the young man was to blame for the tragedy?" Eragon said haltingly, "I think, that what he did was cruel…and Linnea overreacted. They were both at fault." _Oh, stubborn! You'll have to say it eventually, why not now?_ Thought Arya. She stared at him unwaveringly, until he looked down, shifting uneasily. Arya had suspected he might be forming an attachment to her for some time and the longer she spent with him, the more convinced she became of it.

"They weren't suited for each other." _Like you and me, understand?_ Eragon opened his mouth with a slight frown, but then appeared to give up. "Perhaps." He said quietly. Arya sighed._ I suppose that's all I'm going to get from him for the moment._

After a few minuets of talk, Arya said, "How go your studies with Oromis?" A shadow passed over Eragon's face, which she did not fail to notice. He turned away from her slightly, picking at the bark of the tree root. "Oromis-elda… is quite thorough." The words were very deliberate, and not angry, but there was so defiantly something wrong. Arya grabbed his arm, loosening her hold as he winced. She often forgot how strong she was to him. "What has gone amiss?" He tried to shrug off her arm, but she held on. "Nothing." Arya almost laughed. _Oh, really? Nothing?_ "Eragon, I've travelled with you long enough to know when your happy, angry… or in pain. Did something happen between you and Oromis? If so, you have to tell me so it can be rectified as soon as possible. Or was it your back? We could…" _What could we do? _Fortunately Eragon did not seem to notice the lapse. "It's not my training!" After a slight pause, he said more quietly, "Ask Saphira. She can tell you." Arya was sure Saphira could tell him, but if Eragon was bothered by something, he had to tell her himself. "I want to hear it from you." Eragon took a deep breath. "I… Today, Oromis had me meditate in a glade by his house. I had to let down the barriers in my mind and listen to the forest around…" He waved a hand vaguely. Arya frowned. Why would that trouble him so? But Eragon wasn't done. "I watched these ants… But I didn't… I don't know, I didn't seem to get it at all… When I told him about it later, it was like I hadn't understood what he was saying to me. Then he said he wanted me to hear _everything!_ How can I do that?" He shook his head. "That's not all, is it?" said Arya softly. "Arya… Do you remember the child I blessed at Tronjheim?" Arya nodded. Eragon continued to speak, and told her what was bothering him.


	14. Conversation

Arya let go of Eragon's arm and clutched at the tree's root to steady herself. "Barzul." She gasped. She was too angry and shaken to notice Eragon's expression as the dwarf curse left her lips, or be angry at herself for using such a word. _How could this have happened? _But Arya knew exactly how it had happened. And what almost made it worse; it was no-ones fault. Not even Eragon could really be blamed, for he hadn't been taught well enough to understand the grammar of the ancient language. _It's not even Brom's fault, may his soul be at peace,_ she thought to herself. _He did the best he could in the circumstances. _But now- what was to be done now? What had become of the girl? What would become of her? After a moment, she managed to speak. "I knew of your act in Farthen Dur for sure, but I never thought… I never _suspected _that such a thing could occur…" Suddenly something occurred to her that filled her with remorse. So this was why he had seemed distracted and unhappy to see her when she had come to see him and show him Ellesmira! She had thought she was doing him a favour, when all the time… Arya could have kicked herself. "I cry your pardon, Eragon, for forcing you to leave your rooms tonight. I did not comprehend your didcomfort. You must want to be alone." "No." he said and Arya half smiled to herself. He was always so polite. "No. I appreciate the company and the things you've shown me." He smiled at her, and Arya, after a moment's deliberation, smiled back. It felt odd, like her face wasn't used to the manoeuvre. _I should do this more. Smiling, I mean._ They sat for a while in the silence of the night, watching the moon, until Eragon spoke Arya's thoughts exactly. "I only wonder what will become of the child." A moment later, Arya was startled by Blagden's croaking voice high above. _"Wyrda!" _he shrieked.

**A.N. _Wyrda_=Fate**


	15. Memories

"_Is it not the most beautiful and perfect flower?" _

"_Yes it is. As are you."_

Arya wandered aimlessly, seeing nothing, not caring where she was going. She had been like this ever since she had left Eragon by Tildari hall. Why was she acting this way? She did not know. But now she walked beneath the trees, avoiding the other elves, seeking solace in loneliness. She came suddenly upon a stream, flowing over mossy stones under the shade of the trees. A little bubbling waterfall tumbled over itself into a wide, clear pool. Arya sat down on the bank, her back against a tree, and trailed her fingers in the cold, clear water. She stared unseeing at its surface until the water no longer showed the sky and the trees leaves above her. It showed another time, another place, another life.

_Arya sees two elves, standing in a clearing under a starry sky. They are young, and black haired, a man and a woman. She sees the male pulling at the hand of the woman, saying something, but the words are indistinct. The woman, laughing, allows herself to be dragged by the hand to the other side of the tree. The man leans down and plucks a handful of earth from beneath the trees roots. As he speaks to the earth, something begins to happen, and Arya realizes he is saying a spell. A flower takes shape, growing from his hand, created by his words. When it has reached its full height, at the top is a tiny black ball, nothing more. He hands it to the woman with a little bow, and she takes it. She tries to thank him, but her lovely face is confused. Suddenly he throws his head back and laughs, and even through the years, Arya can still hear the laugh. He leans down and murmurs something and the tiny black bud opens, to reveal a beautiful morning glory with a blue heart. The young elf's face lights up and this time, Arya can hear what she says. "Oh, Faiolin! Thank you! It is the most beautiful and perfect flower!" Faiolin smiles, and shakes his head. "No Arya." The young woman-Arya- looks at him questioningly. "No. The most beautiful and perfect flower… That's you." The younger Arya's face lights up in a smile that makes her look ten times lovelier than before and Faiolin smiles again, and takes her face in his hands._

A leaf landed on the surface of the pool, and the picture was gone, gone with the ripples spreading over the water. Arya dashed tears from her eyes and pulled herself back to now. _Faiolin is dead. _She told herself fiercely and rubbed away more tears. _You are wasting time. Crying won't bring him back!_ But now she knew why Eragon's words had had this affect on her. _The most beautiful and perfect flower… That's you. Is it not the most beautiful and perfect flower? Yes it is. As are you. _Why… Why had she shown Eragon the flower? Why had Faiolin had to die? Why, why, why? Arya gave up the struggle. She rolled over, laid her head on the mossy tree-roots, and sobbed. She let out the tears she had been holding in since Faiolin's death and cried as if her heart would break.


	16. Confusion

As Arya stared at the tablet in her hands, several emotions went running through her head, one after the other, but all so fast that they seemed to merge, and she had trouble picking them out from each other. The first and easiest to identify, for it was also the strongest, was anger. _How dare he? _Arya thought furiously as her knuckles whitened on the stone slab. _How dare he do this to me? What do I have to do?_ Then horror. What would this mean? If Eragon couldn't control his feelings, it could spell disaster for all Alagaisia_._ Then a great many feelings harder to identify. Confusion, sympathy for Eragon, self-pity, and something she couldn't make out. Without deliberating, considering or stopping to think, the angry part of Arya's mind took over. She raised the fairth in her hands, and hurled it with all her strength at the ground.

It shattered. Before the last piece had clattered onto Orimis' stone path, Arya had turned on her heel and stalked away. She left a shocked silence behind her.

Before she had gone ten steps into the forest, Arya was already beginning to regret her display of anger. She hadn't lost her temper like that since... Arya came to halt as she realised that she couldn't remember _ever_ losing her temper like that. Not angry enough to smash something. She laid her head against the cool bark of the tree she was standing by, and groaned softly. _Mother is going to be so angry with me._ Then her thoughts took a different tack. _You fool, Arya. Is that how he sees me? That woman is incredible! She's not me! _Suddenly Arya realised what that other feeling had been, the one she couldn't identify. The realisation made her groan again, and she strode on into the woods. Maybe the exercise would clear her foolish brain.

In the deepest, most private part of her mind, the part she would barely admit to herself, let alone anyone else, Arya had felt _flattered. _

**A.N. Hmmm. I am less satisfied with this one. In fact, if inspiration strikes me, I may re-write it altogether. If anyone could tell me either: It was great, don't change it/It was terrible, here's how to make it better, I would be very happy. In other words, please **

**REVIEW!**

**Also I have now a poll for POFAI (princess of fire and ice is **_**such **_**a long title). If you want to tell me what you think of Arya's feelings for Eragon, go vote. Thank you. **


	17. Tea

For days, Arya walked lonely round Tildari hall and the surrounding forest, avoiding Eragon and Saphira. She hated what she was doing and knew that it would only make things harder in the end, but she couldn't bear to face him. She knew he was looking for her, and several times she came into the common room of the elves to see him standing, conversing with some elf, or just looking around. Mainly she slipped back into the shadows before he saw her. Once, she looked up at hearing her name, and saw Eragon coming towards her. There was no doubt he had seen her, and for a moment Arya was tempted to walk towards him. Then she turned and slipped away under the trees.

One day, around ten days after the incident with the fairth, Arya returned from talking with her mother to her chambers. She was intending to work on her poem for the Agati Blodren, but as she paused by the door, she heard something from within. _Who could that be?_ She thought, but as she pushed aside the screen door, she already knew. None of the elves would enter her rooms without her permission, as a mark of respect. None save her mother, and Oromis maybe, but she had just been with her mother, and there was no reason for Oromis to need to see her. She stepped foreward to see Eragon standing by her desk. On it lay a bouquet of flowers. _Oh, no not again _thought Arya desperately. Also on the desk was her recently begun poem. Arya felt a little flush creep up her neck. She didn't know which was worse - the bouquet, or that he had seen her poem. It was difficult to have anyone else read her writing for the first time, and it was still just a start. She was about to walk away again when he turned and saw her. She stood staring at him for a moment, until he lifted the bouquet towards her. "I don't know how to make a blossom for you, like Faiolin did, but these are honest flowers and the best I could find."

Arya set her teeth slightly. "I cannot accept them, Eragon." Yet somehow she didn't think he had offered them to her in that way. It wouldn't be like him to put her in such an awkward position. "They're not… they're not that sort of gift." He said, confirming Arya's guess. Then he explained the present, and the apology that went with it. It was a speech very much of Eragon, short, to the point, and with no attempt to excuse himself the blame. Arya liked that about him.

She reached out and took the flowers, holding them beneath her nose. Their scent was fresh and clear. "They are honest flowers" she conceded. Then she looked at him. Something about his posture worried her. "Have you been ill?" "No. My back…" his voice trailed off, but the silence spoke volumes. Arya felt sympathetic, but also frustrated. It seemed the prophecy she had made to herself on the way to Elesmira was coming true. The affliction was killing him. "I had heard, but I did not think…" Arya voice fell away. What was there to say? Eragon pushed himself upright. "I should go…" "Wait." Arya stopped. Why had she said that? But it was too late now. She had said it. She gave him a seat, and then served him tea. They exchanged some small talk, and Arya was glad to have told him she was going to be leaving after the blood-oath celebration. But he was too disturbed by the information. _What did you expect?_ Arya asked herself. Then He began to read her poem. Though Arya suspected he had already read it before she arrived, She thought it would be rude to stop him. But when he was done, she rolled it up and replaced it on the desk. Though she wished he had not read it, she wanted to know his thoughts. "I think it's quite good." He said after she had told him about the custom of something you had made. _Like he knows _thought Arya rather unfairly. "If you had read much poetry-"I have." He said quietly. Arya felt bad. Of course he had. Ever since they had come to Elesmira Eragon had been devouring scrolls by the dozen. "Forgive me." She murmured. "You are not the boy I met in Gil'lead." "No. I…" there was a pause while Eragon fidgeted. "Arya… you'll be leaving soon enough. I would count it a shame if this is the last I see of you between now and then. Could we not meet again, as we did before, and you could show Saphira and me more of Elesmira?"

_As we did before. _Arya mused. _But before was different, wasn't it? And things will never be as they were 'before'. You have ruined that. _"It would not be wise." She said gently, though it hurt her to say it. She enjoyed his company. "Must the price of my indiscretion be our friendship?" he asked a slight protesting note in his voice. "I cannot help how I feel about you, but I would rather suffer another wound from Durza than allow my foolishness to destroy the companionship that existed between us. I value it too highly" Arya was- despite herself- touched by his words. _He really wants to keep seeing me _she thought. _Even though I have rejected him. He can have no hopes there. _She drained the last of her tea, then said, "Our friendship shall endure, Eragon. As for us spending more time together…" she paused to judge the wisdom of her next words. "Perhaps. However, we shall have to wait and see what the future brings, for I am busy and can promise nothing" He bowed his head. "Of course, Arya svit-kona. Arya felt a stab of annoyance. _I wish he wouldn't call me that. But I guess I did ask for it." _

Some minutes later, Eragon left. Arya watched him go. She felt oddly happy that he had come to see her, and they had reached a sort of agreement. Then she glanced at the desk and saw the flowers. She got up to find them a vase.

**A.N. Gosh, this one is **_**long!**_** I just couldn't seem to end it! Oh well. Sorry it was so long coming. I have been reading LOTRRanger's **_**Overcome**_** and loving every minute of it. That is my excuse, and that the chapter took so long to write. Not much of an excuse, but there it is. Anyway, I hope you liked it.**


	18. Stars

**A.N. Another long one! I have never dedicated a chapter to a reader before, but this is for flamewing41, who has reviewed about every chapter I have written, and been really helpful. Enjoy!**

Arya heard footsteps behind her and turned. There stood someone that for a second she did not recognise. Then she saw who it was, but for a brief moment her brain refused to comprehend that it could be Eragon._ How in all Alagasia…?_ "Is that you, Eragon?" She asked. "Aye" he replied, and Arya knew for sure. His voice had not changed. "What have they done to you?" "I know not." He replied.

As they walked together under the trees, Arya marvelled at the change that the weird creature that Iduna and Neya had made had wrought in him. He was stronger, faster and he moved with the fluid grace that all elves had, but was now so oddly new to him. Arya had seen him fall after the dragon had touched him, but as Saphira and Oromis had been with him, she had not gone to see if he was alright. Besides, she couldn't have if she'd wanted to. He was instantly surrounded by a crowd of amazed elves, all exclaiming at the tops of their voices. It had been a while before they all quieted down.

Arya and Eragon walked together under the stars, revelling in the magic of Agaeti Blodhren. To Arya, it seemed as if the whole forest was singing. The magic the elves had sung into existence that night had penetrated everything, turning the night into a dance.

They came to a stream, hidden under dense trees. It was so dark that even with their good eyes they could not see two feet in front of them. All that was visible was the stars in the sky above.

Suddenly, Eragon spoke. "How tall the trees, how bright the stars…" _No Eragon! _Thought Arya with a sense of desperation. She knew where he was going with this.

"… And how beautiful you are, oh Arya Svit-kona."

All the joy evaporated from Arya like someone had pulled a plug at the back of her mind, allowing the happiness to drain out, fleeing away into the darkness. "Eragon…" He ignored the warning, and continued, "Arya, I'll do anything to win your hand. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. I would build a palace for you with nothing but my bare hands. I would-" "Can you stop pursuing me? Can you promise me that?" Arya stepped closer to Eragon. She neglected to mention the fact that he had already promised her just that. She knew he could not help it. The magic was in him, clouding his judgement. _I should have been more careful._ "Eragon, this cannot be. You are young, and I am old, and that shall never change." "Do you feel nothing for me?" he asked. Arya could hear in his voice how close he was to tears.

"My feelings for you are those of a friend and nothing more. I am grateful to you for rescuing me from Gil'ead, and I find your company pleasant. That is all—" Arya paused and let out a breath. She had said it. In the ancient language. That meant it was true. She did feel nothing more than friendship towards him. She had been almost sure, but… "Relinquish this quest of yours—it will only bring you heartache—and find someone your own age to spend the long years with." She was close enough to him to see the stars reflected in the tears which welled up in his eyes. "How can you be so cruel?" That made Arya angry, but she controlled herself with effort. _What do want me to tell you? Lie to you? Tell you I love you when I don't? In the ancient language? _

"I am not cruel, but kind. You and I are not meant for each other." In a desperate voice, he spoke again. "You could give me your memories, and then I would have the same amount of experience and knowledge as you." _He must be desperate, _thought Arya, _to even consider such a thing._ "It would be an abomination." Arya steeled herself to speak her next words, though she knew they would hurt both of them deeply. "Hear me well, Eragon. This cannot, nor ever shall be. And until you master yourself, our friendship must cease to exist, for your emotions do nothing but distract us form our duty." She bowed, so he could no see her face, or the pain she knew was written on it. _I am sorry Eragon. I truly will miss you._ She straightened up, and stepped back. "Goodbye, Eragon Shadeslayer" _And so a time ends. _

Arya turned and walked away into the forest. About fifty yards from Eragon, she heard Saphira alight. She looked back, and through the trees, by the light of the stars, she could just see the dragons huge form curled round Eragon. _Farewell, Saphira, until we meet again. _She thought silently, though she did not project the words. Ten steps later, even Saphira's enormous body could no longer be seen among the thick pines. Arya knelt under a tree. She thought for a moment she was going to cry, but the tears did not fall. For several minutes, she simply stared miserably into the darkness. Then she lifted her chin, and sent her thoughts flying into the darkness of Ellesmira. _Evalona! Evalona! Come to me!_ After about ten minutes, an elf mare appeared in the shadow of the pines. Her thoughts touched Arya's. They radiated concern and confusion. Somehow, she understood that it was an odd time to be going, when all the other elves were still dancing and making merry. _Yes, Evalona. _Arya reassured her. _We are going now. And I am fine. _The Agaeti Blodhren had lost all magic for her. There was no point in remaining. As far as she was concerned, it was over. She swung a leg over Evalona's smooth back, and pushed herself onto the horse. _Let us ride._

Half an hour later, Arya was gone from Ellesmira, riding away towards the borders of Du Weldenvarden, as the still glimmering stars faded from the sky, night passed into day, and Agaeti Blodhren came to an end.

**A.N. Ha ha, I borrowed the end from that chapter in the book, but hey. What's fan fiction for? I hope you liked it, now please review!**


	19. Leaving

**A.N. I like this. I don't have to keep going back to the book thinking **_**what did he say next? What happened then?**_** Anyway. It's a bit of a filler, but there's not much more to be got about her from Eldest. Two more chapters, I think, then we'll be on to Brisingr! Hooray! **

Arya rode through the night towards the border of Du Weldenvarden, stopping only once for an hours sleep, and to give Evalona a rest. As they travelled, Arya's mood gradually settled. The anger and misery she felt began to subside, to be replaced by calm acceptance. She felt no bitterness towards Eragon, now realising that he had been confused and his thinking muddled by the magic of the night. _As if he was drunk._ Thought Arya, _He really isn't used to this yet. He's not an elf, however he looks now._

_However he looks now… he is changed, that is blindingly obvious, but how much?_ Arya gasped as the implications of Eragon's transformation began to dawn on her. Up until now, she had been so worked up and distracted to understand fully what had happened to him. _Has he lost his scar? Does he now have the strength and endurance of an elf, as well as an elf's appearance? Can he use magic with our ease?_

Arya looked up to realise that they were approaching the boarder of Du Weldenvarden. Evalona came gradually to halt. _Thank you, _Arya said to the horse, sliding off her back. Evalona snorted, knocking her nose gently against Arya's sleeve. _Yes, I'll miss you too. _Thought Arya sadly. Evalona had carried her, when she needed it, and when she was in Ellesmira, since she was a child. It had been her father who had fallen under Arya when she had been captured by Durza. Elf horses are much longer lived than the ones that humans use. She gave the mare one last pat, and turned to look away from her into the wide expanse of the Hadarac Desert. The sun was rising on her left, its golden rays slanting across the scrubby grassland, every tuft of grass and bush casting long shadows. She glanced back once as Evalona began to trot away from her, back into Du Weldedvarden, then turned her back to her home, her face to the south-west, towards Surda and the Varden, and began to run.

**A.N. Sorry about all that horsy stuff. I like horses, so…**


	20. Returning

Arya ran steadily across the desert. She thought it would probably take her about a minimum of ten day's hard going to reach the boarder of Surda, and another half day to reach king Orrin's capital at Aberon. She knew from scrying Nasuada, Jormunder, and various other members of the Varden that Nasuada had gone ahead with her scheme to uproot the entire Varden and move them to Surda. Arya had to admire her nerve. It was a bold stroke, and sure to catch Galbatorix off-guard. _But will it be enough? _Arya wondered as she ran on, her pack bouncing slightly on her back.

Away up to the left, a hawk wheeled and dived. A fly buzzed by Arya's ear, and she waved a hand. The sun continued to beat down, and Arya ran on.

And on. A lizard, startled by her approach, scuttled away over the sand.

And on.

Arya knelt by a sparse bush, shrugging off her pack. It was the first plant taller than a blade of dry grass she had seen since she left the forest behind. _Oh, I hate desert. _She thought. Then, _Water._ She laid one hand on the hot earth, and murmured _"Adurna, risa."_ For a moment, nothing happened, then a dark patch began to form on the ground. A moment later, a pool of water welled up and Arya reached into her pack and pulled out a bowl. She drank a bowlful, and then another. On the forth bowlful, her thirst sated, she released the magic, allowing the water to drain away into the thirsty ground. She pushed the bowl back into the bag, shouldered it, and got up. _More running._

The stinging smell of the burning plains filled Arya's nostrils as she walked into the camp of the Varden two weeks later. It had taken her longer than she had thought to reach Surda. A sentry stepped out from behind a tree as she approached Nasuada's tent. He called out "Who goes there?" Arya gave her name, and the sentry quickly stepped aside and saluted to allow 'Arya Drottningu, Ambassador of Queen Islanzadi' to pass. Arya pushed aside the flap of the pavilion and entered, ducking her head to avoid hitting the canvas. "Arya!" Arya looked up to see Nasuada coming towards her, a delighted expression on her face. "I didn't expect you for some time." Arya smiled. "I only waited for the end of our celebration" she explained. The two women embraced, and Nasuada wrinkled her nose. "I suppose you want a bath, don't you?" Arya nodded. "Yes. Running for two weeks solid…." Nasuada smiled, and then shook her head slightly. "I see. But two weeks! What you can do never ceases to amaze me." Arya looked her young friend up and down, a small frown of worry between her eyes. Nasuada looked older, tired and careworn. "Are you alright? You look like you're working to hard…" Arya's voice trailed off. Nasuada shook her head dismissively. "I'm fine. You're as bad as Orrin! He's always telling me I work to hard. I should spend some time for myself! I should sleep longer hours! I should do this, I should do that, but I can't Arya, can I? I have to keep going, for the sake of the Varden, for our cause…" she stopped with a little sigh. Arya said nothing.

**A.N. Hi guys. Sorry if that was a bit ooc, but I find the relationship between Arya and Nasuada interesting. I mean, what are they? Friends? 'Colleagues'? I guess Arya hasn't changed at all since Nasuada was a baby, and now she's twenty-odd, isn't she? So Arya has seen Nasuada grow up from before she can remember. Also, I've been told be my younger sister that arya taking two weeks to run all the way across the Hadarak Desert is a bit ridicules, so any thoughts? Oh, well. Thanks for all the nice reviews, keep it up!**


	21. Homesick

**A.N. Sorry, I am MAJORLY busy right now—work experience. On top of other things. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait!**

Arya threw herself into her work with the Varden. She attended meetings with Nasuada, Orrin and his commanders; she oversaw training of soldiers, deliveries of weapons and armour, and even, on Trianna's earnest request, trained certain members of Du Vranga Gata in magic and the ancient language, though she disliked this occupation. Arya distrusted Trianna. She did not know for sure why, but she knew her instincts had rarely been wrong yet. _I suppose it's because she is power-hungry _thought Arya to herself after one particularly hard session. But she kept going. Their expertise, such as it was, might decide the outcome of the coming battle.

Arya found that she had begun to regard her time in Ellesmira as a kind of holiday. She worked now to make up for lost time, as it were. But there was another reason. As the days wore on, she found the fact harder and harder to ignore: she was missing Eragon badly. Not just Eragon, though. She also missed Oromis and Glaedr, Saphira, and her mother. Not least, she missed the forest itself. She missed waking up to the sound of the wind rustling in the top branches of the canopy, walking barefoot over moss and bare earth, and rushing streams beneath a dome of stars.

Somehow, though, it was missing Eragon that bothered her most. She had enjoyed their conversations, their walks together. She had enjoyed being able to really talk to someone, a feeling she hadn't had, she now realised, since Faolin's death. The comparison bothered her, though she couldn't put her finger on why.

But she continued with the preparations, the training, because when she was busy, there was no time for musing, and after a hard day, when she was tired, she could lie down and be asleep in a few minutes, without lying awake and thinking about all she had left behind.

However, she couldn't help her dreams.

Sometime after she had left Ellesmira, Arya received a message to come to Nasuada's tent immediately. She had not been there for half an hour when the tent flap was pushed aside and Orik entered, followed instantly by Eragon. Saphira's head pushed under the flap, but her body remained outside. _Arya! _Saphira greeted her loudly. _Saphira. It's good to see you. _Responded Arya warmly. _And the same to you. _

Arya looked back at Nasuada, who was looking at Eragon in wonder, and she suddenly realised that she had neglected to mention the change in him since he had gone to Ellesmira. _Fool, Arya _she thought to herself. _How could you have forgotten that?_

While Eragon told Nasuada everything that had happened since he left the Varden so long ago, Arya examined his face. She could determine nothing from his features, but apart from a glance and a nod when he first greeted them, he seemed to be studiously ignoring her. Arya couldn't work out whether that was good or bad. The conversation moved on from Eragons adventures to the state of the Varden's troops and their chances in the coming battle.

Then Elva entered, and Arya saw Eragon stiffen and turn. She said "Welcome, Shadeslayer. Welcome, Saphira" in that curiously mocking tone Arya still hadn't got used to. He said quietly, "Who are you?" She pushed the fringe off her forehead and revealed the dragons mark, Saphira's star. He walked towards her, and knelt. Speaking in the ancient language, he asked her to forgive him for what he had done. Elva responded, to Arya's surprise, by saying she would. She then infoprmed him of exactly what he had done to her. Though Arya had heard it all before, it still made her shiver. Saphira pushed her huge snout between Elva and Eragon, touching the girl gently on the forehead. A moment later, Eragon spoke. "You don't have to live like this forever" he said. "The elves taught me how to undo a spell, and I believe I can free you this curse. It won't be easy, but it can be done." Arya watched in amazement as Elva's eyes filled with tears and she gave a little gasp. In all the time Arya had known her, she had never seen her lose her self control like that. Elva responded by telling Eragon he should wait until the battle was over. Arya breathed a little sigh of relief at that. She knew if Elva had demanded Eragon reverse the spell immediately, he would have tried. That could have been disastrous.

They spoke a little longer, and then Nasuada rose. "Come now." She said. "I must introduce you to Orrin and his nobles." As they filled out of the tent, Arya became aware that Eragon was trying to walk so he could speak to her. Keeping her face resolutely forward, she speeded up to walk beside Nasuada. Eragon fell behind, but Arya would not let herself look back to see how her slight had affected him. Nasuada looked at her questioningly, but she shook her head very slightly, and the young woman refrained from questioning her.


	22. Preparations

**A.N. Hi guys! I'm sorry; this one's really late as well. I've got a challenge for you: Somewhere in here there is a quote I stole from a film. It just sort of slipped in. i'm sure you'll all spot the quote, but if you know where it comes from, tell me in a review (no peeking at other peoples reviews!). If you get it, I'll commend you(s) in my next chapter, how about that?  
Good luck! **

Arya knew she couldn't avoid Eragon forever, and she was right. Shortly after Nasuada had introduced him to Orrin and his courtiers, as they were entering Nasuada's tent, Eragon stopped Arya with a single word in the ancient language. "Wait" he said. Arya paused, but kept her face studiously blank. Eragon took a deep breath, and began: "Arya, I won't apologise for how I feel about you. However, I want you to know that I _am_ sorry for how I acted during the Blood-oath Celebration. I wasn't myself that night; otherwise, I would never have been so forward with you." Arya refused to let her emotions show on her face. She felt sympathy for Eragon, and it was all she could do not to tell him she understood-she knew it was because of the magic he had acted that way, to tell him she had missed him too. But she didn't. There was no telling what effect such a pronouncement might have on the lovesick young man. Keeping her face stern, she said "And you won't do it again?" The corner of Eragon's mouth twitched slightly. "It wouldn't get me anywhere if I did, now would it?" She remained silent, and he shook his head, once. "No matter. I don't want to trouble you, even if you—" He stopped as if biting of the end of a sentence before he said something unhelpful. Arya noted it. _He has improved. _He wouldn't have stopped to think before. She unbent a little. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Eragon. You must understand that." Eragon looked unconvinced. "I understand" A silence stretched between them, till it became awkward. Arya searched her mind for something to say, anything. "Your flight went well, I trust?" "Well enough." "You encountered no difficulty in the desert?" Arya was growing a little desperate. "Should we have?" "No. I only wondered." Arya threw caution to the winds and returned to their earlier topic, albeit in a roundabout way. "What of you Eragon? How have you been since the celebration? I heard what you said to Nasuada, but you mentioned nothing but your back." "I… I…" Eragon looked distinctly uncomfortable. He appeared to be struggling for something to say. Then his face cleared. "I am better than before." _Mmmm. _Arya wasn't sure of that. But she didn't press him. "I am glad."

Nasuada called Arya from inside the tent, and she glanced away, then looked back. I am needed elsewhere, Eragon. We are both needed elsewhere. I battle is about to take place." She turned to go. Lifting the tent flap, she stopped and hesitated. "Take care, Eragon Shadeslayer" She knew she would most likely not see him before the battle commenced, but she stopped her self from adding the entreaty he had given her before their first battle together. _For my sake. _It seemed so long ago now.

The rest of the day past in a haze. Later, Arya remembered little of the days events, save that the seemed to involve a lot of talking, and walking from place to place. Well past eleven, Arya slipped into her tent. An uneasy quiet had settled over the camp. She managed to snatch a few hours sleep, but rose, in common with the rest of the Varden, and she felt sure, Galbatorix's soldiers, well before dawn had even begun to colour the sky above the burning plains with the promise of a new day.

An unnatural silence reigned. _It is the deep breath before the plunge. _Arya thought to herself.

The 'plunge' came as the first grey light of dawn began to climb into the sky. A horrible scream echoed from the enemy camp, then another, then more and more as whatever horrible substances Angela had spiked the soldier's drinks and plates with did their work. Arya shuddered. This way of doing battle was underhanded and cowardly, but Nasuada had refused to listen to her protests and in Arya's secret heart, she knew her leader was right. Unmatched as they were without Hrothgar's dwarves, the Varden had no time to worry about what was an honourable way of defeating their opponents.

The screams faded eventually, as dawn crept steadily across the plains. Perhaps an hour, or maybe a little later, Arya felt a change in the air. _It is time. _Trianna's voice echoing in her head told her nothing but what she already knew. She leapt to her feet, seizing her sword and bow with a kind of fierce exhilaration.

_It is time._

**A.N. Ok, I'm going to be away for the rest of the week, and after that I'm going to camp. The next chapter will be the start of Brisingr, so this is a good place to stop. There will be no new chapters until September, so have a good summer! Don't forget about that challenge!**

**Let's see if we can make it to 50 reviews, hmmm?**


	23. Alive

**A.n. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know this has been forever coming, but I was away last week and then school started and I have been so busy and I got writers block for such a long time… Yeah. But anyway, I'm back now, or rather Arya is, and it's a nice long one to, so I hope that sort of makes up a bit. I know I said the next chapter would be brisingr, but Rosicleade mentioned this section which I had sort of forgotten about and asked that I do a chapter about it, so here you are, Rosicleade, this one's for you! **

**Oh yes. Following the advice of my friend Belfan, I have decided to start telling you when and at what part of the book the chapter comes so…  
Sometime before and leading up to, Eldest page 660 chapter: Reunion. **

_Gone… Dead…No... Lost! Did we lose? No. We won. _Arya's thoughts chased each other round her head like frightened rabbits. _You can't go on like this. _She berated herself. _You need sleep… _But sleep was impossible, she knew that. Nasuada looked almost as bad as Arya felt, but she wouldn't let herself slow down. For now, time was the all important thing, and they could afford to lose none of it, never mind their personal grieving.

Arya hadn't cried. Not yet. That would come later. After the army was moved, after the wounded were tended, after the men were pulled together and the Varden's losses worked out, after, after, after… A great long list of things that had to be done, and until they were done, Arya felt nothing, nothing but a dull ache and her overwhelming tiredness. The fact that Eragon was most likely dead, or worse, captured by the empire did not seem to have hit her yet.

She struggled to pull her thoughts into some kind of order as Nasuada spoke angrily.

"Arya, there is _no chance _we will be able to hold off here if Galbatorix sends more troops. We must—" Suddenly she broke off and the expression on her face changed. She stared past Arya's shoulder, her eyes wide. Before Arya could turn and see what she was looking at, she had stood up and rushed towards the door.

Arya turned and saw what Nasuada had seen. In the door of the tent stood Eragon, looking bruised and battered but unmistakeably alive. Nasuada was hugging him and it was all Arya could do not to run forward and do the same. _Alive! _He was alive. Alive and here and safe. Arya took a deep breath. She suddenly felt rather weak.

Nasuada spoke. "Where were you? We thought you were dead, or worse."

"Not quite." Eragon replied softly.

"The candle still burns" Arya murmured half to herself, and then felt a little surprised. Where had that come from? '_The candle still burns' _was a line from an elfish poem, but why had she said it then? She shook her head slightly, and looked at Eragon. He looked completely exhausted, but there was something else in his face, a kind of grimness, a set in his jaw which hadn't been there before. Something had happened during his encounter with the red dragon's rider. But what?

Eragon pulled forward another figure from behind him. Arya had been so intent on her inspection of his face she hadn't noticed him.

"Nasuada, I would like to introduce my cousin Roran. Ajihad may have mentioned him to you before. Roran, Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden and my liegelord. And this is Arya svit-kona, the elves ambassador." Roran bowed to Arya and Nasuada politely.

"It is an honour to meet Eragon's cousin." said Nasuada.

"Indeed." said Arya.

While Eragon and Nasuada spoke, Arya studied Roran's face. He looked like Eragon, a little. At least like the Eragon of before the Agati Blodrhen. _And yet not like… _he was shorter, and Arya got the impression he was stronger than Eragon had been, to. His face was squarer, and his expression closed and grim. _That is a man who has seen great evil. _Arya thought to herself.

She attended to the conversation again as Eragon began to talk of his duel with the Rider. Arya had already guessed what he was going to say but she was surprised when Nasuada took the words from her mouth and said, "It was Murtagh, wasn't it?" Eragon appeared as surprised as Arya.

"How…" She sighed, and Arya caught an odd expression on her face. The next second it was gone.

"If the twins survived, it only made sense that Murtagh had as well. Did he tell you what really happened that day in Farthen Dur?" Eragon told them what Murtagh had said, then stopped. A strange, almost pained expression crossed his face and he said,

"He wanted to take Zar'roc. He said… He said He said Zar'roc should have gone to Morzan's Eldest son, not… not his youngest." His voice sank almost to a whisper. "I am Murtagh's brother. Morzan is my father." He stopped. There was nothing else to say. Arya's mind was gasping. _Morzan's son! It can't be! And yet… _As Arya thought over the idea, she began to realise it did make sense, in a kind of way…

"Could Murtagh have been lying?" she asked, but her slight hope was crushed when Eragon replied grimly,

"I don't see how. When I questioned him, he told me the same thing in the ancient language." The silence in the tent stretched out. No-one knew what to say. Arya thought of some way to comfort Eragon, but nothing came to mind. _Morzan's son! _Then something else occurred to her.

"No-one must know of this. The Varden are demoralized enough by the presence of a new rider. And they'll be even more upset when they learn its Murtagh, whom they fought alongside and came to trust in Farthen Dur. If word spreds that Eragon Shadeslayer is Morzan's son, men will grow disillusioned and few people will want to join us. Not even king Orrin should be told." Nasuada rubbed her temples, suddenly looking very tired.

"I fear you are right. A new Rider…" she shook her head.

For some time, they discussed this new development. Finally, and somewhat to Arya's relief, Nasuada said, "Enough. We cannot decide this when we are tired and bloody and our minds are clouded from fighting. Go, rest, and we shall take this up again tomorrow."

As Eragon turned to go, Arya stepped forward, looking him straight in the eye. Their conversation of before the battle seemed years ago. She looked him straight in the eye. "Do not allow this to trouble you much Eragon-elda" she said, choosing the title carefully. She had never called him that before. "You are not your father, nor your brother. Their shame is not yours."

"Aye." Added Nasuada. "Nor imagine that it has lowered our opinion of you."_ although, _thought Arya, _I'm not so sure about your cousin. _She had seen the expression on his face.

Nasuada reached out and cupped Eragon's face in her hands. "I know you, Eragon." she said. "You have a good heart. The name of your father cannot change that."

Eragon looked from one to the other, his face filled with emotion. Finally, he twisted his hand on his chest with the elfin gesture of courtesy. "Thank you." he said after a moment, sounding rather choked.

They all stepped out of Nasuada's tent, and Arya slipped away through the night. Before she was out of earshot she heard Eragon say softly, "So now you know." and his cousin's answer, though she could not pick out his words.

It did not take her long to reach her tent, near as it was to the centre of the camp and the commanding pavilion. As she slipped between the blankets of her cot, Arya let out a long breath. _Alive. _It wasn't until she had thought he was dead she had realised how much it had affected her. But that was to puzzle over in the morning. For now, sleep.

**A.N. Oh yes, my quote challenge. The quote was 'it is the deep breath before the plunge' and it comes from The Lord of the Rings (film) The Return of the King. Gandalf says it to Pippin.  
Anyway, Flamewing41 got the quote, but didn't know where it was from, so well done flamewing41. No-one else got it at all. And once again, sorry for the delay. I'm back on track now, I promise. **

**On to Brisingr! It wasn't till I started this thing that I realised quite how much of Arya there is in Eldest. I've done nearly **_**4 times**_** as many chapters for Eldest than I did for Eragon. **


	24. Alone

**A.N. Brisingr, **_**(finally!)**_** somewhere between page 125 and page 140**

Arya rolled over and punched the folded jacket which served to keep her head off the dusty ground while she slept. _Arya, _She said to herself ruefully, _that was without a doubt the stupidest thing you have ever done. _She sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking around. She was partly concealed by an overhanging bank, protected still more by the young tree that grew at its top, its spreading green branches shielding her from the eyes of anyone coming from that direction, at least. _Still, can't be too careful. _She decided.

The reason for Arya's current predicament was simple. She had run away from the Varden. She was now alone and – apart from her strength and magic – defenceless in the Empire. Just what she had been getting angry at Eragon for doing. She was looking for him, really. His fault she was out here. But she couldn't blame him. He hadn't asked her to run out on Nasuada and Orrin.

Arya stood up cautiously, glancing around. The land as far as she could see was deserted. Just as well. Arya had no desire to get involved in some sort of struggle this early in the morning. She walked stiff-legged towards the stream she had noticed the night before. Bending over, she splashed the cold water in her face, the shock of it dashing her to instant wakefulness. She rolled her shoulders, stretching, then straitened up, considering. About forty miles to her east was the town of Melian.

She was now leaving deserted desert country and moving through populated farmland. She was far too conspicuous in her present state – something yesterday's encounter had shown her. She needed to get hold of a dress, and fast. She ran a hand over her angular features, considering. In the meantime, there was something she could do about her appearance. She walked back to where she had been sleeping, sat down, wriggling a little to get comfortable against the hard earth, and began to invent a spell.

Half an hour later, Arya stood up. Her features were now entirely human. She looked around, and began to run.

**Yay! 50 reviews!**


	25. Eastcroft

Arya picked her way between the tables to keep out the thick, rancid smell of the tavern. She glanced around from under her hood. The place was completely packed, and the noise was incredible, used as she was to the silence of the wilderness.

Arya reached the bar and leaned her elbows on the grimy surface. The man to her right looked at her with a frown, but she ignored him. A woman alone always attracted attention, and Arya had grown, if not used to it, at least resigned to it.

The bar-woman turned and looked at Arya expectantly.

"I need a room." Said Arya quietly, pulling down her hood.

"What size?" The woman asked in a bored fashion.

"Just me." The woman raised her eyebrows, but shrugged.

"Will you want anything in the meantime?" Arya shook her head. The woman shrugged again, and then called behind her "Alyn! Come and mind the bar." Another woman came out of the back, wiping her face and nodded.

"Yes ma'am" She turned and began to speak to one of the men. The first woman, who Arya guessed to be the mistress of the house, led Arya up the back stairs to the second floor and along a gloomy corridor. She fished a large iron key from her pocket and opened the door, gesturing Ayra into a low room. It was small and none to clean, but it would do. The woman handed her the key and was about to turn and head back downstairs when Arya spoke up.

"I'd like to pay now." The woman shrugged again. Arya was beginning to find the habit annoying. "If that's yer wish. That'll be three crowns including breakfast tomorrow, but nothing you buy in the meantime." She held out a dirty hand. _Everything about this place appears to be dirty. _Arya thought.

"I'll not be needing breakfast." She said. He woman barely blinked, but then said "Alright. Two crowns then." Arya handed over the money and the woman walked away.

"Excuse me!" Arya called after her. She turned. "Is this the only tavern in Eastcroft?" The woman nodded once. Arya had thought so, but she wanted to be sure. Eragon was close, and she guessed he would want to spend the night in the town. If this really was the only place he could spend the night, he would be here soon enough. All she had to do was wait.

Arya followed the woman downstairs after locking the door to her room. She wound through the tables to a place near the wall, away from the large groups, where she hoped she would attract no attention. She sat down, pulled up her hood, and began to wait.


	26. Reunion

**Brisingr, page 141 Sorry for the delay, I have been working on my other Inheritance Cycle stories. You want another excuse? Alright then, it was my BIRTHDAY yesterday! how about that? :D**

The man pushed his face in, so close Arya could smell the drink of his breath. She suppressed the urge to wrinkle her nose, and ignored him.

"Wassa matter, love?" the man slurred. "Cat got your tongue?"

Arya bit her teeth together. If these imbeciles carried on talking to her this way, she was going to lose her temper and do something she knew she would really, really regret. Maybe she should go up to her room? But she knew Eragon was close by, if she left now, she might miss him.

One of the men took hold of her hood as if to push it back. Arya reached up and grabbed his wrist, so fast she knew he probably wouldn't notice, but he pulled his hand back. The hood fell round her shoulders.

Suddenly something touched Arya's mind and without hesitating, she lashed out at it. It recoiled in pain, but as it did so, she recognised the source.

_Eragon!_

_Arya?_ she sat up and looked round the room. There he was, by the bar. Their eyes met, but then one of the men shifted slightly and her view was cut off. None of them had noticed a thing. Eragon shouldered his way to their corner. In a moment he had reached them. One of the farmers scowled at him. "You're awful rude, barging in on us, uninvited-like. Best make yourself scarce, eh?" Eragon frowned slightly. Arya kept her eyes fixed on his face. _Don't mess this up, Eragon. _She begged him silently. _We don't want a row here…_

"It seems to me, gentleman," said Eragon in a calm voice. "That the lady would rather be left alone. You wouldn't ignore the wishes of an honest woman, would you?" One of the men snorted. "An honest woman?" he said with what Arya considered to be fair scepticism. "No honest woman travels alone."

"Then let me set your concern to rest, for I am her brother, and we are going to live with our uncle is Dras-Leona." Said Eragon, still in the same calm, diplomatic tone. Arya admired his nerve. These men could turn nasty in a moment_. It's a good story, but will they buy it? _Arya thought, eyeing Eragon's light brown hair and eyes, a marked contrast to her own dark locks and green eyes.

Three of the men appeared to believe Eragon, and they edged away from her, but the largest -and worst- planted himself in front of the young dragon rider, towering above him.

"I'm not sure I believe you, _friend_. I think you're trying to drive up away so you can be with her yourself." Arya saw a slight smile curve Eragon's lips, but she doubted any of the men had noticed it. She knew Eragon so well she could read every line in his face like a book, but this man was so inebriated she didn't think he would notice if Eragon laughed in his face.

" I assure you, she is my sister. Please sir, I have no quarrel with you. Won't you go?"

"Not when I think you're a lying milksop." The man growled.

"Sir, be reasonable. There is no need for this unpleasantness. The night is young, and there is drink and music aplenty. Let us not quarrel about such a petty misunderstanding. It's beneath us."

The man relaxed and shrugged. Arya breathed a sigh of relief. "I wouldn't want to fight a youngling like you anyway." He growled, and lumbered off with his friends. _Why not, I wonder? _Thought Arya to herself. _Because it wouldn't be a fair fight? You're right there, but not in the way you think! _Eragon sat down beside her, staring out at the room. "What are you doing here?" he muttered. "Searching for you." Eragon looked at her appearing surprised. She raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to add, _Obviously._

"Are you alone?" another obvious question.

"No longer… Did you rent a bed for the night?" He shook his head.

"Good. I have a room. We can talk there."

They rose and crossed the crowded room. As they passed the men from before, Arya kept her face fixed straight ahead, ignoring them.

The passed through the back, and up the stairs to Arya's room, where They face each other across the room. Eragon reached up to his forehead and pulled off the band he was wearing to cover his ears. Arya made a mental note to teach him a spell of concealment at some point – anyone could have pulled it off at any time. She removed her cloak, noting with amusement the surprised look on his face.

Finally Arya broke the silence. "Saphira said you stayed behind to kill the last Ra'zac and explore the rest of Helgrind. Is that the truth?"

"It's part of the truth."

Eragon told her why he had stayed, and Arya's anger kindled. It seemed an unnecessary risk to take to stay behind for nothing more than a nuisance, and she told him so. Eragon, however, stoutly defended his position.

They spoke for some time longer, until eventually Arya thought it best they sleep. Eragon took the floor, and she the bed, and silence fell as each settled down for the night.

**These really are getting longer and longer, aren't they? When I started, the average word count was about 200, say but now it's more like 600! **

**Review!**


	27. Sleepless

**Brisingr, page 146**

Arya lay wakeful. She traced the patterns in the wood above her with her eyes, the lines in the grainy surface leading her eyes around and around making pictures and swirls and going off into corners where it was too dark for her to see.

She heard Eragon turning over and shifting by the door, but eventually he fell silent.

The sound of the hall below drifted up the stairs, or through the floor, Arya could not tell where they came from, but eventually the singing and shouting quieted. She heard people moving along in the passage outside, calling to one another, their voices growing muffled as they disappeared into their rooms.

Arya was silent. Eragon was silent. The inn was silent. The whole world, it seemed to Arya as she lay on a dirty cot in an inn in the middle of the empire in the lateness of the night and into the small hours of the morning, was silent. For a while, she attempted to meditate, but thoughts kept breaking in, disrupting the blankness of her mind. They went round and round her head, over and over, and with the thoughts came questions. She went over her journey, her conversation with Eragon and his decision to let Sloan live. Was he right, or was his choice that of a well-meaning fool? Did it matter? She thought about the Varden, and Nasuada. Did they really have a chance in this war? She thought about Eragon, lying in front of the door. His breathing was steady, but was he asleep? Was he lying awake like her, wrestling with his thoughts? Thinking about her, perhaps? Had he resigned himself to her rejection yet? Thinking about Eragon led her to thing about Ellesmira, and her last –eventful – trip there. Was she right in the way she had reacted to his advances? Should she even be here, or was that foolish, to place herself in this situation with him? She thought about her mother.

She thought about Faolin. She hadn't thought about him for a long time now, not she realised with a sight shock, not since that night in Tildari hall, when she had shown Eragon the flower he had made for her. Not since then. What did that mean? She was forgetting him? Arya's heart cried out against that idea. _No! I can't! Can I?_

In a sleepless night, the long hours merge into one, and the mind grows tangled and confused. Arya could have sworn she had never fallen asleep, but the next thing she knew was that she had awoken and lay alert on the bed, knowing without knowing how that it was time to leave Eastcroft and return to the Varden.

**A.N. A bit**** weird this one? I was thinking the other day, hang on, Arya hasn't thought about Faolin for ages! This gave me the opportunity. Anyway, please review now!**


	28. Escape

**Brisingr, page 147**

The grey light of dawn was barely beginning to touch the sky as Eragon and Arya slipped out of the inn in Eastcroft. They dropped silently from their window to the ground below, Arya gripping her skirts as she did so. _Oh, how I hate wearing a dress! _She thought to herself.

Eragon set off running the moment he landed, and Arya followed him towards the town wall they could just see through the houses. She hoped it wasn't guarded to closely. As the still, dark houses flashed past, Arya was struck by a sudden thought. This place was peaceful. The people might complain about the empire's strict rule, but they got by, and for the most part they were, if not happy, at least passably contented. _For how much longer?_ Arya wondered. When the Varden's armies swept up here towards Uru'baen, how many of these people would survive? How many of their men, fathers and sons and brothers, would be called up to fight and kill and give their lives at the will of a madman? How many would _she_ kill? Arya shuddered and pushed the thought to the back of her mind. If she thought like that now she would go mad. _Remember the reasons, _she told herself. _Remember what Galbatorix has done… Remember wh__y we fight. _

Arya realised with slight surprise that they had reached the outer wall. The wooden staves towered above them into the steadily lightening sky, sharpened at the ends. She moved along the wall until she found a post that stuck out a little, enough to provide a grip for climbing. She shook it, and it held. She stepped back a little and gestured at the wall.

"You first."

"Please, after you." Arya groaned under her breath. Eragon chose the most inopportune moment to be gentlemanly. She tapped her bodice. "A dress is somewhat breezier than leggings, Eragon." It was not quite so dark that she did not see the flush that overtook his face as he hurried to begin climbing. Arya pressed herself against the wall and suppressed a soft chuckle.

Eragon reached the top of the wall and stood on the sharpened spikes, balancing perfectly as he looked down. Arya looked round. "Go on!" she hissed.

"Not until you join me." He whispered back.

"Don't be so-" she began in exasperation, but Eragon interrupted.

" Watchman!" He pointed along the wall, behind Arya. She glanced round and saw the dark shape of a man behind a bobbing lantern. Biting her lip, she ran silently forward and pulled herself hand over hand up the protruding post. As she neared the top, Eragon leaned down and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last few feet of wall.

Side by side they stood in utter silence as the watchman's light passed below. Arya held her breath.

A moment later, the man passed on, humming to himself. Arya let out her breath in a long sigh, and Eragon's answering sigh, loud beside her in the dark told her he had been holding his breath as well.

They turned to face out of the town towards the plains and Eragon jumped. A moment later Arya heard the thud of his landing, the armour in his pack clanking loudly. Arya winced even as she jumped. _I hope no-one heard that, _she thought. She landed on all fours like a cat, and looked around. Eragon was standing up a few feet away from her. He looked round, and set off running. Arya followed, dodging when he did round ditches and dry stream beds as they skirted the houses and farms that surrounded the village. Dogs ran at them, snapping and barking, but Eragon took care of them. After the fourth dog had returned, tail wagging to its kennel, Arya listened to what Eragon was doing, and it made her laugh. He seemed to be telling them that they were so scary that they had frightened him and Arya away with their fearsomeness. _Interesting persuasion, _thought Arya. _I'll have to try that some time._

Three miles from Eastcroft, Arya breathed easier. No-one was following them, they had got away safe. But then another uncomfortable thought occurred to her. She was going to have to scry Nasuada soon. She was not looking forward to that.

**A.N. Rubbish title, I know, but I couldn't think of anything else. Anyone got any better ideas?**


	29. Murderer

**A.N. SORRY SORRY SORRY x1000000000000 I feel so, so bad I know it has been forever since I last updated in fact I am surprised if any of you remember me. Suffice to say I am not dead. I honestly have very little excuse too, and that makes it worse. All I have to say is I have been quite busy (but not that busy and not as busy as I have been some other times when I kept the story going so that's no excuse) and I have had a major case of writers block with this fic. **

**What seems to have been happening recently is basically me transcribing the dialogue which is already in the book, which is mega-boring for me and I suspect you all as well. So I am going to try and go back slightly to how I wrote at the start, shorter chapters with less dialogue and more description. Whether I will succeed is another matter… **

**Brisingr, page 185**

Arya felt Eragon's shadow fall across her back. He was breathing heavily. She spoke without looking at him.

"How is it you could kill that man but you could not bring yourself to lay a finger on Sloan?" She stood, shaking from her hands the water she had used to wash them. It fell in a thousand shining droplets to the earth, swallowed up by the dusty ground. She lifted her head and looked at Eragon. He wasn't so much as sweating, but his whole demeanour was that of a man who had run miles. He shoulders were slumped, his breathing heavy and as he lifted his face to hers she saw his eyes were blank and empty.

He shrugged. "He was a threat, Sloan wasn't. Isn't it obvious?" his words were emotionless, but they cut to Arya like a knife. She stared at the bodies that lay around them. Obvious? Should it be obvious? If it was, why couldn't she understand it? _What have I become? _

"It ought to be, but it isn't… I am ashamed to be instructed in morality by one with so much less experience." Eragon's expression did not change. He had heard her, but Arya doubted her words had made any impression. He stared at the dead soldiers.

"I feel like a murderer." For all his strength and training, he sounded in that moment like a child after a nightmare. Arya longed to comfort him, but there was little she could say to ease the pain. He had to learn to cope with it himself, in his own way, as she had, as they all had if they were to win this war.

She turned away and picked up a spear.

**A.N. I know I don't have much of a leg to stand on, but please, if you read this chapter, could you review? You don't have to say much, I would just quite like to know who is still reading and who's given up on me…**


	30. Carrion

**Brisingr, page 187**

When Eragon and Arya had completed their grisly task of disguising their handiwork, Eragon re-joined Arya as she stared southwards at the road that led towards Surda.

"We had best avoid the roads from now on." She said, half turning to step down form the little hillock she had climbed. But as she did so, Eragon's right sleeve caught her eye. It was soaked in blood and the hand was twisted horribly, the skin torn revealing the tendons and muscles beneath.

"You should get that fixed before we go" she said, reaching out to take hold of his wrist. "Waise Hael" she said, releasing the magic and allowing it flow into his hand. He groaned, but did not pull away. The fingers popped back into place and fresh skin quickly grew to cover the raw flesh below.

Only when the hand was fully healed did Eragon draw away. He turned the hand over, flexing the fingers into a fist and straightening them again.

"Thank you" looking up at her in slight confusion. Arya looked away over the plains. She felt a little embarrassed as she knew he could have healed himself perfectly well. So why had she done it?

"I am glad you were by my side today, Eragon." She said, not looking at him.

"And you by mine." He replied quietly. She gave him a little, uncertain smile. For a while they stood side by side on the little hillock. Then Arya sighed, breaking the little silence that had built up. "We should be off. The shadows lengthen, and someone else is bound to appear and raise a hue and cry when they discover this crows' feast."

They began to run. As they did so, Arya heard the harsh cry of a vulture as the circling birds began to descend on the carrion.

**A.N. Sorry I mean to update this chapter yesterday, but I couldn't get on the computer to do it yesterday, so here it is now. :)**


	31. NOT A CHAPTER

**Yeah, as I said in the title, this isn't a chapter. It's just a note. I'm sorry, I was honestly meaning to get another chapter up today, but you know, it's Christmas, and it just wasn't happening. I've been crazy busy, so much going on.**

**And I also didn't want to leave you all hanging and not tell you that I'm going away after Christmas till the New Year so there'll be nothing until then as well.**

**So it just remains for me to wish everyone a very **

**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

**See you in 2011!**


	32. Realisations

**A.N. Ok, I'm really really sorry this has taken so long. My Mum's been ill so I've been quite busy, and it was very, very hard to write. I wanted it to be perfect, and some part of it I re-wrote several times. I also wanted to put in most if not all of this scene, so I've split it into two parts. The other will focus mainly on the lily. **

**This chapter is the closest I've yet got to ExA. I haven't wanted to rush it, and this is where I always wanted Arya's feelings to start to change. I hope you enjoy it! **

**Brisingr, page 197**

_The night air must have addled her brains, Arya thought later. Else why had she acted in the way she did, or felt the way she did? It must have been lack of sleep, or something. Yet she felt that her mind had been perfectly clear. Or maybe not. How had they moved so easily from Eragon's pain at killing to her torture in Gil'ead? Her feelings for Faolin? How had she said so much?_

"Was it Faolin?" "Yes."

"Did you love him?" Arya stared upwards into the night sky, strewn with a thousand diamonds. How to answer such a question?

"Do you ask out of friendly concern, or your own self-interest?" She said, and immediately the cruelty of her words shocked her. "Never mind. The night air has addled me, leaving me free to say the most spiteful things that occur to me." She glanced at him quickly, sideways, to see if she had hurt him. He did not seem to mind. He never did. He never seemed to take offence… She liked that about him. Unlike amongst the elves, where you always had to be tiptoeing around, afraid of upsetting anyone… She could say what she wanted to Eragon. Was that good or bad? She didn't know.

"No matter."

"It does matter, because I regret it, and I will not tolerate it. Did I love Faolin? How would you define love? For over twenty years, we travelled together, the only immortals to walk among the short-lived races. We were companions… and friends."

Eragon remained silent, but no Arya had started, she couldn't stop. She had told no one this, and now everything that was bottled up inside her came spilling out.

She spoke of the instant of Faolin's death, that one moment which had haunted her, Gil'ead, Durza's torture, the nightmare days of pain and despair. All the while Eragon remained silent, his eyes fixed on her face, but in his silence was the encouragement to continue.

"And then you came, Eragon." How her life had changed since that moment. She had stood tense by the bed as the door opened, ready to fight whoever was coming in and die rather than be broken by Galbatorix… and seen Eragon there. A stab of such astonishment and a kind of wild, desperate hope had gone through her then; she knew that she would never forget that moment. How he had looked then, framed in the doorway, eyes staring, face panicked, was etched forever in her mind.

"You and Saphira. After hope had deserted me and I was about to be taken to Galbatorix, a Rider appeared to rescue me. A Rider and dragon!"

And Morzan's son." Said Eragon quietly. "_Both_ of Morzan's sons."

A flicker of unease crossed passed through Arya, but she brushed it off. Eragon needed more time to come to terms with the revelation of his true parentage.

"Describe it how you will, it was such an improbable rescue, I occasionally think that I did go mad and that I've imagined everything since."

"Would you have imagined me causing so much trouble by staying behind at Helgrind?" Arya smiled inside herself.

"No," she said "I suppose not." And she wouldn't. Not with Eragon. Recently she had begun to notice that she never gave a thought to that possibility when she was with him. It was when he was not there that she allowed herself to dwell on her memories of Gil'ead. _What did that mean, s_he asked herself over and over. _Why is it different when he is t__here?_

She dabbed at her eyes, drying the tears that still clung to her lashes. "When I awoke in Farthen Dur, there was too much that needed doing for me to dwell on the past. But events of late have been dark and bloody…" she shifted onto her knees; put her hands on the ground on either side of herself as if to push away the uncertainty.

"You say I walk alone. Elves do not incline towards the open displays of friendship humans and dwarves favour, and I have ever been of a solitary disposition. But if you had known me before Gil'ead, if you had known me as I was, you would not have considered me so aloof. Then I could sing and dance and not fell threatened by a sense of impending doom." More tears pricked at her eyelids_. I've lost so much. Can I ever go bac__k? Be the person I was then? _

She glanced up in slight surprise as Eragon laid his hand over hers. When he spoke, his voice was gentle and quiet. "The stories about the heroes of old never mention that this is the price you pay when you grapple with the monsters of the dark and the monsters of the mind. Keep thinking about the gardens of Tialdari hall, and I'm sure you'll be fine." He smiled at her, and Arya felt her breathing ease somewhat. An image filled her mind, and she thought of the flower in Tialdari hall, the flower Faolin had made for her. She shied away from the thought before she realised that the pain was different, quiet, a gentle regret rather than the wrenching grief she had always experienced before. _Why is that? _

She looked down at Eragon's hand over hers. It was bigger than her little slim one, and the skin was rough and calloused. Not like an elf's hand. An elf's hand would be smooth, and delicate and clean. Eragon's hand wasn't clean. They had been running over dusty earth all day, and been in a battle only that afternoon, and Arya knew that her hands were none too clean either. But she didn't mind. She liked Eragon's hand. It was the hand of someone who had grown up on a farm, someone who wasn't afraid of rough work. But it was more than that, it was a Riders hand, a hand that could hold a sword or a scroll or a pen with equal ease. A man's hand. He was no longer a boy. He had grown up. When had she realised that?

With a slight start Arya realised something else... Their roles had been reversed. He was advising her, showing her the way to go. It had always been the other way around. The realisation surprised her so much she moved her arm, and Eragon removed his hand calmly, turning away. And the removal of his hand gave Arya a sudden, unexpected wrench as she looked down at her own hand, bare and small and cold on the dry earth.

_What is going on with me?_


	33. Gift

**A.N. Here you go! Sorry, it took longer than I had meant it to. I have been working on another Eragon/Arya one-shot, a songfic which I hope will be up just as soon as we can work out the internet problem on our laptop. And this chapter is a nice long one, so I hope that makes up for the wait.  
Enjoy!**

**Brisingr, page 200**

Arya became aware that Eragon was singing only very gradually, and when she did finally realise what she was listening to, she also realised that she had been hearing him sing for some time without being aware of it. The song was so quiet that she could not make out the words, only a few here and there. _Eldhrimner _she heard again and again. _Eldhrimnier, loivissa. _Grow, lily. It must be a song Oromis had taught him, she thought idly. But she did not think there could be any songs that Oromis would have taught Eragon that he had not taught her when she was just a child… Were there? There must be.

The melody was lilting and regular, after the fashion of the elves, but Arya found herself listening more to Eragon's voice than trying to pick out the words of the song. It was a good voice, she thought, huskier than an elf's, but pure and steady, following the shape of the music smoothly_. I didn't know he could sing,_ thought Arya. But then there were a lot of things she didn't know about Eragon. He was constantly surprising her with what he said and did, and it was as if every day revealed a new complexity she had not seen before_. Even I will never learn everything… _When she had first come to the Varden, her view of humans had been like any other elves': they were simple, unchanging and without grace, they were born, they lived, and they died, in life-spans that did not allow them time to cultivate anything subtle or truly graceful. It was a shame, and they were to not to be despised for it, but rather pitied, but there was no way to change it.

How wrong she had been. In her time amongst the humans she had seen a depth she could never have believed, men and women who achieved more in their sixty years or so than many of her elven acquaintances had in their several thousand. And Eragon seemed only to be furthering this impression. Arya doubted that anyone except Saphira could ever understand him fully. _But then, _she reflected, _can any of us really u__nderstand anyone else? _She supposed not. Not even a human.

_What was that song?_ Eragon's voice was dying away, and for a moment, silence reigned over the little circle of firelight. Then he turned back to her, holding in his hands something that made her heart jump. "Here. It's not a white rose, but…" he shrugged, handing it to her. Arya took it carefully, almost afraid that if she moved it, it would fall apart. It looked so frail.

A blue lily. Bell shaped, with a slender green stem and long, delicate pale blue petals that faded into whiteness at the tips, it was so beautiful that Arya felt a lump form in her throat. "You shouldn't have." She murmured. "But I'm glad you did."

She lowered her head, breathing in long and deeply. The smell of the flower wafted round her, and she closed her eyes as the sweet, fresh scent seemed to wash away all her worries. She admired the flower for a little longer, then took a handful of earth and planted it, pressing down the soil. _Now it will grow_, she thought with quiet satisfaction.

"Thank you" she turned to Eragon. "Giving flowers is a custom both our races share, but we elves attach greater importance to the practise than humans do." Eragon continued to watch her as she spoke, his eyes serious. Arya went on, anxious to show him how much his gift had meant to her.

"It signifies all that is good: beauty, rebirth, friendship, and… more." She didn't think Eragon had heard the very slight hesitation, but Arya had surprised herself. Why wasn't she willing to say the word love? What would that have meant? "I explain so you understand how much this means to me. You did not know, but-"

"I knew." Eragon's voice was quiet but Arya felt mortified. _Of course he had known! He's not a child anymore. _ She felt like a fool, and once again Eragon had shown her something new. Or something she had not noticed before.

They talked long into the night, on many subjects, some pleasant, some not. But all the time Arya's eyes kept being drawn to the lily, and her fingers to touch its smooth, waxy petals. The gift of the spirits only made it seem all the more precious to Arya, and she wished they could take it with them, even though she knew that was impossible.

Soon after the spirits had left, they fell silent. Eragon chuckled for a while, laughing at the 'gilded lily' which he found immensely amusing, until he finally drifted off to sleep.

But Arya lay awake for a long time, watching the stars turn in the sky above, and thinking.


	34. Welcoming

**Brisingr, page 221**

Saphira landed with a crash that shook the ground, buffeting Eragon and Arya with the wind from her wings.

With a laugh of pure joy, Eragon ran to her, vaulting onto her back into his usual place. Arya saw him relax visibly as they settled together, waves of love and happiness rolling off them. Although their minds were open to Arya, she felt uncomfortably cut off from their obvious joy at being together again. They shared a bond that she could never understand, and however much she tried, she couldn't quite eradicate a little unpleasant emotion. She had enjoyed being alone with Eragon in the desert, perhaps more than she had realised. But now they were back, and he was with Saphira again.

Than Saphira turned to Arya, bending low to touch her forehead with the tip of her snout. Arya felt her hot breath on her face.

_Greetings, alfa-kona. Welcome, and may the wind rise under your wings. _The tone in which she spoke, warm and affectionate, threw Arya for a moment. Saphira was greeting her almost as she had greeted Eragon, as if Arya was now a sharer in their bond, in their love. Arya glanced quickly at Eragon, and saw the faintest flicker of a frown cross his face, quickly replaced by a smile. She breathed an internal sigh of relief, answering Saphira with as much courtesy as her confused feelings would allow.

A mounted patrol approached to convey them to the centre of the camp. Arya mounted the horse that one of the men offered her, and pushed him into a walk, riding along behind Eragon and Sahpira. She watched his first meeting with Blodhgarm and the other elves carefully, but Eragon handled himself well.

_He has indeed changed, _she reflected.

A huge crowd had begun to gather around Eragon and Saphira, calling and cheering. Few of them noticed Arya, but she liked it that way. And it gave her more time to consider Saphira's greeting.

The villagers of Carvalhall began to emerge from among the tents. Arya watched as Eragon was swept up in his people with a little smile that held a hint of sadness. He looked so happy with them, and they so pleased to see him. She wondered at the difference between this and what her greeting had been when she returned to Ellesmira. _Maybe we elves have something to le__arn from humans after all, _she thought. Or maybe it was just her… How would her people greet someone with many friends?

Then Eragon came face to face with Roran and a young woman with a quantity of coppery-brown hair and a pale, haunted face, whom Arya presumed was Katrina. She watched with interest, for she had not seen her before. She barely came up to Roran's shoulder, was slim bordering on thin, and her face was pinched. Her eyes held a shadow that Arya understood all too well. She guessed that when she had fully recovered from an ordeal that must have been horrific, she would be a pretty girl, but no great beauty. She saw the way Roran looked at his bride, and wondered at what he had done for her. Few men could or would do as much. Briefly, it crossed her mind to imagine if Eragon would do the same for her, but she pushed the thought down quickly. It would not be a good thing if Eragon placed his duties below any personal feelings, no matter how strong.

She listened again to the cousin's conversation in time to hear Eragon say "May you live long, may you always be together and may you have many children."

Arya's sharp eyes caught the slip of Katrina's smile, but she saw something else too. Katrina's hands were crossed over her front, but at Eragon's words, she shifted slightly, so that one of her hands lay lightly across her stomach. The movement was barely noticeable, but Arya smiled. Katrina had a secret. She wondered how long it would be before it came out.

**A.N. Feminine intuition, it's a wonderful thing. Lol, anyway. I have a question. I was going to go on from here right to the wedding, but then I looked through Brisingr again and there's the whole fight with Murtagh and Thorn and then the 'trial' or whatever when Eragon and Arya have to explain everything to Orrin and Nasuada. Should I do all that? Or only one or the other? Or skip over it entirely, and so get on to the interesting parts faster? Any opinions?**

**Oh yes, and I have a bit of advertising to do… I have written a new ExA fic! It's called One Last Goodbye. Go and read it please! :)**


	35. Chaos

**Brisingr, from page 306**

For almost two days after Eragon and Arya had returned to the Varden and given their report to Orrin and Nasuada, the camp enjoyed a period of peace and calm. Arya herself used the time in the best way she could - she rested. Several times during the course of the two days she saw Eragon walking about here and there with a purposeful look on his face, but as for herself, she enjoyed having no purpose at all for a time, however short that time might be.

She knew it would be short, but she never guessed just how short.

In the late morning of the second day, Arya looked up from the scroll she was reading in her tent as she heard the baying of a battle-horn in the distance. Tensing automatically, she put down the scroll and walked to her tent door, shaking down a foreboding she couldn't identify. Outside, the Varden was in chaos. Men and women were running in every direction; their yells and the sound of war-drums rent the air. Horses, terrified by the noise, added to the tumult by their panic. Arya stepped forward at caught the forearm of a man strapping on a sword as he ran by.

"What is it?" she called over the din. "Galbatorix, my lady! The man yelled back. "The soldiers are attacking the camp!" He wrenched free his arm and ran on.

Arya hesitated a moment, then dashed back into her tent and caught up her slender sword, which lay on the table. She was already garbed in armour. Pulling the sword belt over her head as she went, she ran swiftly to the embankments overlooking the river. There she found Nasuada and Jormunder, both mounted, Nasuada flanked by her Nighthawks. She wheeled round as Arya approached, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Arya. Thank the gods you are here. We need to-" the end of her sentence was cut off as Eragon and Saphira appeared above her, landing with a crash. At almost the same instant Orrin and his retinue appeared, riding at full gallop towards them, closely followed by the leaders of both the dwarves and the Urgals. Following Saphira's flight ran Blodhgarm and his elves. Despite the danger they were all in, Arya took the barest second to wonder at the group gathered on this ridge. Every sentient species in Alagaesia was represented here. _Amazing. _

But now was not the time for such musings. Nar Garzhvog, the last to arrive, barked out the question she saw in everyone's eyes: where were their enemies? Where was the huge force that had the Varden in such an uproar? Arya was already staring at the ships on the river. Not much of a force…. There seemed to be barely 300 men, and she said so.

"Why so few?" Wondered Jormunder out loud. No-one knew. Arya couldn't say why, but the lack of numbers sent a chill of fear through her heart. _W__hat does he know that we don't? _

Another horn-blast echoed across the plane, so loud Eragon and the elves covered their ears. Arya saw Eragon wince in pain. The pain however, was quickly forgotten, brushed aside by the horror of what it heralded.

From the other side of the river, ruby-red in the bright sunlight, rose Thorn, with Murtagh on his back. Saphira's words were audible to the whole company, as was her fear.

_They have come for us. _She said.


	36. Anxiety

**A.N. Wheee, two chapters in two days! I'm on a roll! The thing is, I've been ill, which, while deeply unpleasant of course, does give me a lot of time lying around not doing much, so I used the time for something (sort of) constructive. And I'll be away most of next week. It's just possible that I may get another chapter up before I leave, but I'm not making any promises. So most likely this'll be the only chapter for another ten days or so. Hope you enjoy!**

**Brisingr, page 312**

Arya thought quickly. Spinning around, she faced Nasuada and Orrin. Her heart was beating fast and there was an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

"Nasuada, Your Majesty, you have to stop those soldiers before they reach the camp." stumbling slightly over the words in her haste, she rushed on. "You cannot allow them to attack our defences. If they do, they will sweep over those defences like a storm driven wave and wreak untold havoc in our midst, among the tents, where we cannot manoeuvre properly."

As soon as Nasuada grasped Arya's point, she began to throw out quick-fire instructions, dispatching Orrin, Garzhvog and Jormunder to their places on the battle-field, but keeping Narhiem the dwarves' general with her. She had barely silenced his complaints when a horrible shriek echoed through Arya's mind. _Ah, no help me! They won't die! Angvard take them, they won't die! _She saw from the shock on her companions faces that they had heard it too. The sudden silence told Arya the man had died and she felt a chill settle on her heart at his words. _They won't die? _What abominations had Galbatorix wrought here?

Murtagh's amplified voice cut across their reactions to the scream. "_Eragon!" _he bellowed furiously. _"Eragon! _I see you there, hiding behind Nasuada's skirts. Come and fight me, Eragon! It is your destiny, or are you a coward, _Shadeslayer?" _Arya winced slightly at his words, but Saphira answered defiantly, roaring loud enough to shake the earth and sending a jet of blue flame fully twenty feet high into the air. The horses bolted down the embankment, leaving Eragon, Saphira and the elves alone.

On impulse, Arya walked over to Saphira and laid a hand on Eragon's leg. He looked down at her in surprise. "Accept this from me, Shur'tugal" she said, pushing energy from her own body into his.

"I thank you" he said softly in the ancient language. Arya's gut twisted with anxiety as she looked at him. "Be careful, Eragon. I would not have you broken by Galbatorix. I..." she trailed off, unsure how to voice what was in her mind, and very conscious of the elves standing a few feet behind her. She hesitated, and stepped back.

As she did so, one of the female elves standing next to Blodhgarm caught her eye. Her name was Anierin, and she was the daughter of one of Islanzadi's nobles. Arya had known her most of her life.

Anierin raised an eyebrow very slightly, a tiny gesture, but Arya set her mouth in a firm line and ignore her. Whatever she was suggesting, it wasn't true. And yet, it was close enough to the truth to bother Arya deeply. She pushed it aside as she watched Saphira rise into the air to meet Thorn and Murtagh. There were more important things to worry about.

**A.N. One other thing… almost 100 reviews! Yay!**


	37. Exhaustion

**First, to **_**Brisingr**_**, **_**shadeslayer 777, poppy, **_**and **_**popsterz **_**(or **_**poppy/popsterz**_**, if you are one and the same person) thanks for the reviews. I can't reply the normal way, but thanks ****anyway. I'm glad you like the fic.**

**Sorry guys, this whole 'error type 2' thing is a pain, isn't it? I couldn't update for ages. But to update, (I found this on someone's profile and was so pleased so I thought I share it here if any of you are struggling with the same thing) go to ed****it your story and when the error message comes up, look at the url and change '****properties****' to '****content****'. You can update, but not change the summary or anything.**

Arya dropped her sword arm to her side, drawing a long, painful breath. At her feet lay the broken body of a soldier. As she looked, he gasped out a final, gurgling laugh and lay still.

Arya averted her eyes in disgust, but her mind was filled with horror. Killing the soldier should have been easy. He should have fallen, open and helpless, when she had landed a blow to his side, but he had fought on. And again, and again, brushing off wounds that should have incapacitated him, all the time laughing that horrible, chilling laugh.

"Drottningu! Drottningu!" Blodhgarm's urgent cries cut across Arya's troubled thoughts. She turned and saw him beckoning frantically with his free hand between pointing upwards. Arya looked up. Saphira and Thorn had just clashed in mid-air and there was a three-foot gash in Saphira's wing.

Cursing herself for her lapse in concentration, she pushed a thought towards Eragon, halting his preparations to heal his dragon.

Once the spell was complete, Blodhgarm bounded up to Arya and spoke softly but urgently. "Drottningu, we must go to a better place." He said in the ancient language. "You cannot focus on Shadeslayer's fight while you are engaged in your own. Also, we waste energy he may need." Arya nodded, too exhausted for speech. Instead, she turned and ran towards the camp, calling out to the other elves as she did so.

xXxXxXxXxX xXxXxXxXxX xXxXxXxXxXx

Arya was running before Saphira hit the ground, the other elves at her heals. As she ran, she called out again and again to Eragon, beating against his mental defences. _Eragon! Eragon! Wake up! End the spell! _She could feel it, draining away her life force and energy. Running was becoming increasingly difficult and suddenly, she felt Anierin fall away. A second later, another elf also fainted.

Arya redoubled her efforts.

Finally, after what felt like a years, she sensed him wake. _End the spell, Eragon! It will kill us if you keep it up. End it, Murtagh is too far away! _

Eragon released the magic. The relief was immense but it couldn't bring back the energy already spent. Arya was more tired than she thought she had ever been. She reached Saphira. Eragon was speaking to her but she couldn't listen to him now, she couldn't speak now... She had to though.

She answered quietly and began to inspect Saphira's wounds. There were lots, but none very serious. Before a moment had passed though, a commotion came from some way away. Orrin had rallied his troops and was holding them in a tight bunch, facing the river. Saphira took off over the lines of Orrin's horsemen and landed beside the king. The elves followed more slowly, still breathing hard. For the first time, Arya properly examined the battlefield. The fight was almost entirely over. Only in one or two places were there still little scuffles going on. The battle was won, but the plain was littered with bodies. Many, many men of the Varden, as well as the empire's soldiers. Arya clenched her fists as they reached the little crowd staring at a lone soldier.

If ever there was a hollow victory, this was it.

**A.N. Oh yeah… Eragofan12 says that they would like to see longer chapters even if it**** has to be updated less often. Some of you however have said that you like that it's short. If you review, (and of course you were going to, weren't you?) could you tell me what you think I should do, length-wise? Thanks =)**


	38. Daffodils

Arya sat down on a bank and rubbed her hand across her forehead. She felt as if she had lived ten years in one morning. Never in her life and had she been as tired as she had been an hour ago. She felt exhausted mentally as well as physically. _How can we possibly win this war? We lose so many men to so few… Are we merely throwing away our own lives as well as those of our soldiers?_

Arya shook her head. She couldn't sort out these questions now, and she wasn't sure if she ever could. But she knew that she'd have to keep fighting. They all had too, even if they _were_ fighting a losing battle. But to dwell on it would be to succumb to despair.

Arya turned her thoughts to the wedding planned for the afternoon. Despite Nasuada's misgivings, she thought that having such a celebration would raise the morale of the troops, rather than seem unseemly. Still, maybe it would have been better to wait a day...

A white dove swooped past Arya, fluttering it's wings as it passed. A second later, another followed, chasing the first up to the tree-tops. Arya smiled as she looked at them, despite her heavy heart. Then an idea occurred to her. She stood slowly, so as not to scare them, and then reached out a hand, murmuring an intonation in the ancient language. The first white dove cocked its head at her. She repeated the words, slightly louder. The other turned to look, and then both gently fluttered downwards and landed on her outstretched palm. Gently she placed them on the grass next to her and looked around. To her right, about three feet away, was a cluster of daffodils. She stepped over and plucked a handful, and began to weave them into a circlet, speaking all the time to the doves, explaining to them what she wanted them to do.

When she had finished weaving the crown of yellow flowers, she muttered a spell to keep the blossoms fresh, and laid it between the two doves, which remained staring at her trustingly.

"_Ganga." _Reluctantly, the birds picked up the circlet between them and flew off towards the river. Arya smiled. That was her wedding present sorted. She hoped Katrina would like it.


	39. Beautiful

**YAY! WE HAVE RELEASE DATE FOR BOOK 4! It's ABOUT TIME, but finally it's happened! ****  
****CANT WAIT FOR NOVEMBER 8****TH****! So I'd better get this thing done then, hadn't I?**

**Brisingr, page 341**

Arya was curious. Also, though she wouldn't care to admit it, a little excitement was stirring in her breast. She had never attended a wedding before, even in her many years as ambassador to the Varden, the situation had never arisen.

She was standing at the base of a low hill that stood near the Jiet River. Eragon stood at its crest, and with Arya were Nasuada, Jormunder, Orrin's Prime Minister Irwin, and Angela. Arya had also glimpsed Elva standing close behind the witch's skirts. Spread out over the meadow were the villagers of Carvahall, and a large number of the Varden who were not seriously injured. It seemed she had been right in thinking that the wedding would raise the people's sprits. The atmosphere was one of supressed excitement, an almost holiday air.

The river flowed past, sparkling in the midday sunlight. The grass beneath Arya's feet was a rich green, thick and dotted with yellow wild flowers. The air smelt clean and fresh. It was hard to believe that a bloody battle had taken place only an hour ago just a mile over the hill.

The villagers began to sing a hymn, and Anierin took a harp from its case and began to play a harmony to their voices. The haunting counterpoint embellished the simple hymn, giving it an almost elven air.

Roran and Katrina appeared from the other end of the field and began to walk slowly towards the hill as silence fell. Their faces shone with joy, and each was richly dressed, but all eyes were on Katrina. The haunted, frightened expression was gone from her eyes, and in its place was a serene happiness. She was beautiful.

Arya glanced toward the river wondering when her doves would appear. As if summoned by her thought, there they were, swooping three times round Katrina and laying the crown upon her shining copper locks. She looked faintly surprised for a second, and then she smiled again, looking, if it were possible, even happier than before.

"Did you arrange that?" asked Eragon quietly. Arya smiled, but did not answer.

Roran and Katrina reached the hill and stood before Eragon, who looked fresh and clean and not at all nervous, which Arya found strange. Perhaps he was still a little dazed from his fight with Murtagh, she thought.

The ceremony went on, but Arya found it difficult to concentrate. Instead, her mind drifted, enjoying the scent of the meadow and the sound of the river beyond the waving trees. Who knew how long such peace would last?


	40. Singing

**Brisingr, page 340.**

Caesi dove forward and Varyel spun away from him, hair flying. Then she brought her sword around over her head and swung at him. Their swords met in mid-air with a clang.

Arya watched the two elves sparring with a vaguely critical eye. Varyel should have taken better advantage of that opportunity; she was being a little slow in her returns. But that was a nice, neat thrust… And Caesi was fighting well, he always did. Arya knew both of the young elves by sight. Caesi was about her own age, and she had trained with him when they were both young. Varyel was younger, and neither were what Arya would term 'friends'. She hadn't had many friends apart from Faolin, even before her exile. And not now, not for a long time…

The fight ended, and Caesi and Varyel turned and beamed at the rapturous applause from all around the tent. Arya smiled and clapped along with everyone else. Caesi looked round at her, grinning, but then his face took on a speculative look. Varyel sat down between two of the other elves, but he stepped across the room and whispered in Anierin's ear. They held a quick conversation, both glancing often in Arya's direction. _Oh dear. _Thought Arya apprehensively, _Oh dear oh dear…_

It didn't take the two elves long to come to a decision. They both stepped up to Arya, and stood side by side, trying and failing to look serious.

"_Drottningu," _began Caesi respectfully, "we thought perhaps you might deign to honour us and Shadeslayer's cousin by singing… Anierin will accompany you if you wish."

"I really don't think it is-" began Arya, but Anierin interrupted "Oh do, Arya! Please! Like Caesi says, it would honour them." She gestured in the direction of Roran and Katrina, who sat at the head of the table, engrossed in each other.

"I don't think they would notice if we all danced a jig." Muttered Arya dryly. She hesitated. "Very well, I will sing if you, Anierin, accompany me."

Anierin nodded. "Certainly, Drottningu. I will get my harp. What do you wish to sing?" Arya considered. "I will sing _Althen un Dalean. _It is the most fitting of our songs for a wedding, I think. Particularly this wedding." Anierin fetched her harp, and as she tuned it, Arya ran over the words of the song in her mind.

The moment Arya began to sing, the tent fell silent. All through the many verses of the song there was never more than the gentlest hum of whispered conversation. Even Roran and Katrina looked away from each other from time to time to listen.

Once, Arya glanced at Eragon. His eyes were fixed on her face, his expression totally absorbed. She quickly looked away again.

_**Althen un**__** Dalean**_**: Althen and Dalean (Thanks !)**


	41. Left

**I am not happy, guys. Of the 35 people that have this thing on their alerts, of the 126 hits on the last chapter, I had how many reviews? 3. And only 3 for the last chapter as well, actually, and 3 for the one before that as well.  
Many thanks to SimplySupreme, RestrainedFreedom (I know there's a dot but fanfiction thinks it's a web address and wont let me write it the right way), and chaSing b0b. To everyone else… well… *scowls darkly*. I hope you get your act together!  
It was only a matter of time before I dedicated a chapter to RestrainedFreedom, who's reviewed most if not all the chapters, so three cheers for RestrainedFreedom, for being one of the very few people I can rely on to review, and also, as far as I can make out, has read (and reviewed) just about every story on this archive of Fanfictiondotnet. Hurray for RestrainedFreedom! This one's for you!**

Arya woke a little later than usual the morning after the wedding. She had nothing to do that morning, so after washing, she made her way to the practise fields. There she found Aneirin, Caesi, Leaiti, a young she-elf she knew by sight only and another elf whose name she did not know practising sparring.

For a moment she watched them quietly. Then Caesi leapt past Leati and seized her sword arm, twisting it. The slender elven blade flew from the elf's hand and landed hilt up in the grass. Leati nodded to Caesi and strode lightly past him, retrieving the sword.

"Once again, I cannot defeat you." She said with a little smile. Caesi turned to Arya with a low bow.

"My apologies, Drottningu, for keeping you. Did you wish to request something of us?" Arya was briefly surprised. Did she spend so very little time with her kin that they assumed she must have something to ask or tell them if she sought them out? Yes, I suppose I must. She reflected a little regretfully.

"No, I merely had no pressing engagement this morning. I came to practise, and I did not know you were here-" She broke off as Anierin and the other elf came to join the little group, sliding long knives into sheathes.

"Princess." Said Anierin, echoing Caesi's bow. "Allow me to present Elithre. I do not think you have met." Elithre bowed, touching two fingers to his lips in greeting. "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

Responded Arya automatically. "I am pleased to meet you, Elithre." She went on. "How is it I have not had the pleasure before?" Elithre shrugged. "I was raised in Silthrim, and never visited - before Islanzadi called the army together."

"Oh." Arya nodded. There was a slight pause, and then Anierin said "We have all come here to practise, so we should not be standing around talking. Princess, will you spar with me?"

"Certainly" replied Arya, drawing her sword.

The elves sparred all morning, until they were tired. Then they parted ways, Arya to her tent, the others to their own living space.

Arya felt refreshed, in her body and mind. It was quite a long time since she had fought another elf, and the exercise was most welcome to her. She felt she had stretched herself, something she enjoyed.

"Drottningu!" She heard a voice call her name, and turned. Blodhgarm stood to her right, beckoning to her. He touched two fingers to his lips. "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

"I wished to tell you that Shadeslayer has left, Drottnugu, this morning." Arya stared at him. "Left? What do you mean?"

"I mean he has left. Nasuada sent him to Farthen Dur this morning."

"Farthen Dur?" Arya wasn't sure she had heard right.

"Yes, Drottningu. I thought you would wish to know."

"But- why?" even as he asked the question, Arya knew the answer. "To oversee the election of the next dwarf king, of course." She said, almost to herself. "She mentioned she was thinking of sending someone… But Eragon? What if Murtagh or even Galbatorix were to attack whilst he was gone?"

"That is why I wished to speak to you, Drottningu. No-one must know except us. I may tell the others I think, and Shadeslayer's cousin and his wife know, but no-one else. This will help keep it secret, and there is always the possibility that the king has planted spies in our ranks." Blodhgarm went on to outline the scheme of the false Eragon placed on Saphira's back, but Arya wasn't listening.

After Blodhgarm had taken his leave, Arya returned to her tent. She ate her midday meal with a little frown drawing her slanted eyebrows together. It bothered her that Nasuada had made the decision to send Eragon to the dwarves without consulting her. It wasn't that Arya didn't trust Nasuada's tactical thinking. Even in the short time she had led the Varden, she had demonstrated to Arya time and time again that she was eminently suited to command.

But it always rankled when Nasuada or Eragon made an important decision without her knowledge. She supposed it was a kind of pride on her part, but it made her feel slighted when her years of experience and knowledge were so carelessly brushed aside. Like when Eragon had promised his allegiance to the council of elders, even though in that case he had actually made a clever move in evading them. Or in this case… but Arya had to be fair, and as she reflected, she saw that Nasuada was right. There really was no better person to act as an emissary to the dwarves at their election, and the support of the next ruler of the dwarves was absolutely vital to the war campaign.

Arya smiled ruefully. The fact was, Eragon and Nasuada were both growing and maturing faster than she realized. She had seen Nasuada grow from babyhood, and sometimes found it hard to dislodge from her mind the memory of the little girl sitting on her father's lap in council meetings, playing with his long hair.

Eragon had been an untried, inexperienced and uneducated farm boy when he had sprung her from a cell in Gil'ead. Since then he had change almost beyond recognition, into a hardened, intelligent and adaptable warrior, a true Dragon Rider.

Both these things were true, and Arya had an unpleasant but unavoidable thought: the plain fact was they just didn't need her as much anymore, Eragon especially. It was just something she'd have to get used to.

It still bothered that he hadn't said good bye, though.


	42. Flying

**A.N. Hi everyone! Sorry it's been a while. I have exams coming up, so that means lots of revision! Oh, the joys of education. Not.**

**Also, lots of Bad Things have been happening to our computers recently. Particularly the computer I normally write this fic on. I had written some of it when a rather nasty Bad Thing happened and I lost it all. So I had to write it again, which in the end wasn't so bad, as I rather prefer this to what I had before. But it was still annoying.**

**Anyway, to focus! As I said, I have exams, so (I may already have said this?) chapters will be coming with decreased frequency over the coming weeks/months. Sorry about that.**

**This chapter is for SimplySupreme, for being an awesome reader, reviewer, writer, and fellow fan of Arya, and also for giving me an amazing way to fill this frankly incredibly boring stretch of Brisingr when Eragon is sitting on his backside in Farthen Dur listening to dwarves ramble on. SimplySupreme, you are great! And you wanted some Arya & Saphira bonding time, here it is. Hope you like it. :)**

A shadow passed over Arya. She paused and looked up, squinting slightly in the bright sunlight, and rubbing a hand across her forehead. It was hot. Too hot for comfort, and definitely too hot for tramping across a desert. The Varden were marching northwards, towards Feinstr. Every step took them closer to the heart of the Empire, closer to their goal.

Arya knew that for an army on the march, they were moving fast, but there was an urgency about everyone now, a kind of hurried impatience in every move they made. Their entire war campaign, and thus the future of Alagaesia, could depend on how fast they moved.

_A race against time..._Arya reflected dryly.

The shadow passed again, closer this time, and Arya saw Saphira angle over her, wings outstretched. The dragon swung about and came in to land, sending up a cloud of dust.

"Good afternoon, Saphira." Arya said quietly.

_Greetings, Arya._Saphira's voice echoed within Arya's head.

Arya walked on, and Saphira turned to move slowly along beside her.

_I wondered, Arya, whether you wished to fly with me today._Saphira said suddenly. Arya stopped and looked at her in amazement.

_Fly with you? Of course, I would be honoured, but..._She felt slightly confused. She had never flown alone with Saphira before, and only very rarely with Eragon.

_I tire of Shadow-Not-Eragon, and also of Blodgharm's fussing. He is like an old mother hen. _Arya had to bite back a smile at the comparison. Saphira continued regardless. _I wondered if you would wish to come with me today. My days are very dull now._

_Yes. _Arya smiled. _I would love to fly with you._

_Well come on then! _Saphira crouched, and Arya lept from the ground to her shoulder, and from there to her back, settling into the hollow of her neck as she had seen Eragon do so many times. It was surprisingly comfortable.

As Saphira took off in a sudden jump, Arya bit her lip hard. The ground rushed away very fast, making her head swim. Swallowing, she held on tight.

_Are you alright?_ Saphira asked in concern.

_Yes, Saphira, I... Yes. I was just a little surprised by your speed. I am not as used to this as your rider._

_My apologies. _Saphira slowed down, and leveled out, and Arya began to enjoy herself. Up here it was cooler, and a breeze blew her air off her forehead. She could see the whole Varden spread out below, marching under Saphira, and up ahead miles and miles of empty plain.

For a time they flew onwards in companionable silence. It was not long before they had left the Vaden behind them.

Then Arya broke the silence. _Are you well, Saphira?_

Saphira did not answer for a while, so Arya did not press the question. She did not want to make the dragoness annoyed with her, but she was sure there was something wrong, and it wasn't too hard to guess what it might be.

Finally, Saphira spoke quietly. _No. I... I am well in my body, but I cannot be content-_

_-Without Eragon here?_

_Yes. I worry about him all the time._

Arya thought for a while. She understood Saphira's concern. She herself worried about Eragon, and she knew Nasuada did too. Does everyone worry about him when they cannot see him? She wondered.

_You need not worry, Saphira. __It is not as if he is incapable of defending himself. You know this._

_Yes, but he is always in trouble! _Saphira fretted. _He attracts fights and shades and magicians and fortune-tellers and urgals whenever my back is turned._

Arya smiled a little. It was true. Eragon was a magnet for trouble, and encountered danger wherever he went.

_The only free Rider in Alagaesia cannot expect a peaceful life._

_Nor his dragon._ Saphira spoke petulantly. Arya knew her well enough to know when the annoyance in her voice was real, and when it was not, but she kept quiet.

They flew on in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

After a while, Saphira said _Do you feel more accustomed to flying now, Arya?_

Arya considered. Yes, she felt fine, she thought. Much better than she had when they had first taken off.

_Yes I do, Saphira. Why-_

Suddenly Saphira dived, opened her mouth and roared. This time Arya couldn't keep the scream inside as the world tipped over. Saphira cartwheeled in the air, turning over and over. Arya gripped the saddle's pommel and gritted her teeth. _Saphira, please!_

Almost as suddenly, Saphira leveled out, slowing to a glide only fifty feet above the ground. Gradually, she began to climb again, and Arya sucked in a long breath, then let it out slowly.

_Why did you do that?_

Saphira took a while to answer. When she did her voice was layered with amusement, and the worry from before seemed almost completely gone.

_Because I wanted to._

_Well... I would appreciate it if you... warned me... if you wanted to do it again!_

_Also because it may be necessary for you at some point to ride me during a battle. It might be a good idea for you to learn to fly with me without screaming at the most basic of manoeuvres._

Arya had to admit she had a point, but the slightly condescending tone in Saphira's voice made her feel just a little foolish.

_My apologies, Saphira. I was just..._

_I know._

After a some time, Saphira looped around and began to fly back in the direction of the Varden. As she did so, Arya found the sun glaring full in her eyes, and she realised that it was considerably lower in the sky than it had been. They had been flying for quite a long time without her noticing it. The Varden came in sight and Saphira flew downwards towards them, landing smoothly. Arya dismounted, and looked up into the dragon's huge saphire eyes.

_Thank you, Saphira. I enjoyed our time together very much._

_And I also._ Saphira lowered her head and looked Arya full in the face. _Perhaps we can reapeat it soon._

_I hope so. Until then, may the stars watch over you._

Sahpira turned and jumped, flying away in the direction of Eragon's tent, leaving Arya standing on her own, watching her go.

**A.N. One other thing. Thanks to Melanmel10/Melanhead10 for the reviews, they are much appreciated. I'm glad you like the story. :)**


	43. News

**A.N. Yay! Exams done! ****Thank you all for being so patient. But… unfortunately, I will be going away soon. Where I'm going I'll have no internet access. I will however, have a laptop with me, so I'll be writing there, I'll just not be able to post the chapters as I write them.  
Anyway, read on…**

**Brisingr, some point before page 531**

Jeod spread his hands and a helpless note crept into his voice.

"I'm afraid that if I don't stumble on some new channels of investigation soon, I will be forced to advise you it is extremely unlikely I will ever succeed. I'm sorry, but there's not much I can do." Nasuada nodded.

"Very well." She sounded defeated. "Thank you, all the same. Let's pray the gods send you better luck then, eh?"

Jeod nodded. "Yes, my lady. I hope I can bring you better news at our next meeting." He gave her an apologetic smile, bowed, and turned to go.

From the back of the tent, Arya watched him go from under half-closed eyelids. She was leaning against a tent pole, but her semi-sleepy pose was an act. She was listening closely to everything every one of Nasuada's visitors had to say. It was a duty she undertook regularly, and Nasuada found it a comfort to know that someone else was evaluating her many meetings.

As Jeod disappeared through the tent-flap, Nasuada let her head fall into her hands, her shoulders slumped. Arya didn't speak. There wasn't much to say. Finally, Nasauda broke the silence. "What can we do, Arya?"

Arya frowned. "What do you mean?" she enquired.

"Am I being absurd? Am I leading all these people to their deaths?"

"I don't-" began Arya, but Nasuada was in full flow. "I just keep thinking and worrying. This fighting between the men and the Urgals, it's unsettled the whole camp… And if Eragon doesn't succeed in Farthen Dur, and Jeod doesn't make any progress soon, I fear we're placed very badly, never mind the quarrels amongst our own soldiers."

Before Arya could reply, the full-length mirror that Nasuada kept at the back of the tent for scrying began to cloud over. Nasuada leapt to her feet and Arya started forward. In its depths, a face began to form.

"Eragon!" exclaimed both women together.

"Arya, Nasuada." Eragon nodded to them both. He was smiling widely and wore an air of suppressed excitement.

He opened his mouth as if to speak and then shut it again. "Well…" he said. "I need Saphira to come down."

"Alright." Replied Nasuada. "Why? What's going on down there, we haven't heard anything since you left!"

Eragon scratched his chin. "I… Oh, I'll just tell you from the beginning." So he began to speak, informing them of everything that had happened since he arrived at Farthen Dur. Both women listened in increasing astonishment, occasionally breaking in with an exclamation or to ask a question. But for the most part they listened in silence.

_Its true._ Arya marvelled at one point in the narrative. _Saphiras right. His ability to get himself into trouble is quite extraordinary. _

"So there it is." Eragon finished. "Whether Orik wins or not, the new king or queen will be crowned in three days time. She needs to be here."

"Of course." Said Nasuada. "I'll make sure she knows immediately."

"And Eragon?"

Eragon looked at Arya. "Yes?"

"Well done." She smiled at him, and hesitantly, he smiled back. Then the glass clouded over and he vanished.

For a moment Nasuada and Arya sat in silence, both adjusting mentally to the new information they had received.

Then Arya broke the silence. "You should go."

Nasuada jumped up. "Saphira! Of course!"

**A.N. The other night, I couldn't sleep. Besides writing about three chapters of **_**Snapshots of Love**_** (my Anakin/Padme fic), I had an idea. I know a lot of you have been asking for more uncannon stuff… not uncannon really, I mean stuff that's not in the book. You've been asking me to write more than is there, extra stuff, if you will. I'd love to do that, but I simply can't find a way of making it work within what I'm trying to do with this particular fic. So I thought, why not make another? It would be like add-ons to this one, conversations and moments between Arya and various other characters. Like Oromis, Murtagh, Angela, her mother, perhaps Ajihod or Katrina, and so on and so forth. So far I have thought: When Arya gets back to Tronjiem after Eragon and Murtagh rescue her, who nurses her back to health? Angela, perhaps? And after she breaks the Star Saphire, we know Angela looks after her. Maybe Arya went to see Murtagh in Farthen Dur too, and if her visit coincided with one of Nasuada's, it might be possible to work in a bit of MxN there! I am intrigued by the relationship between Oromis and Arya, I think he perhaps was something of a father figure to her because she barely knew her own father, so, maybe some time between them whilst she and Eragon are in Ellesmera. There could be a few flashbacks to Faolin, or a conversation with Roran about Eragon. It wouldn't be so much a story as a collection of one-shots. As you can see, I have LOTS of possibilities forming in my mind! I personally like the idea, but what do you guys think?**


	44. Feinster

**A.N. Alright, so our computers are going bannanas, ok? The laptop's not working _at all, _and the other one wont let me make any documents on it. So I have rather inventively come up with a solution: I am writing the chapters on old docs _already_ uploaded onto Fanfiction(dot)net. So far so good. But only until they run out of time. And I had so many future chapters of Snapshots of Love written on the laptop... if it never works again... *sob*  
But you guys are not readers of Snapshots of Love, are you? You are readers of Princess of Fire and Ice. i hope you like the chapter. Its a bit different from some of the others, more like three mini-chapters, but I have to get quite a bit across, and I wasn't going to make each new development a whole chapter on it's own. I just hope it works.**

Fienster loomed on the horizon.

Every hour it grew closer, and the Varden grew tenser. Arya felt the forbidding growing in her mind too, although she tried hard to suppress it.

_Nothing can be helped by worrying, _she told herself over and over. _Nothing at all._

Nearly two weeks after Saphira had flown east for the dwarves coronation, the Varden camped across the river from Feinster. That night, Nasuada found it necessary to bring up a subject they had all been rather carefully avoiding. Eragon. Where was he?

Since Saphira had left, they had recived no word at all from him. A week ago Nasuada had spoken briefly with a dwarf spellcaster, who had informed her jubilantly that Orik was the new king of the dwarves. This information had filled the Varden with delight, but as the days had passed, bringing with them no Rider and dragon, the relief had given way to an anxious scanning of the horizon. For it was a simple, unpleasant but unavoidable fact: without Eragon and Saphira, their chances of taking Feinster were slim.

But there was nothing they could do. And at well past midnight, Nasuada's war council left the command tent, grumbing under their breath and biting their lips. They had finally agreed on what Arya had considered obvious from the beginning: they had no choice but lay seige to the city. Surround it, attack it, and hope.

So that was what they did.

_Xxxxxxxx_

"We must take action, my lady." Insisted Blodgharm. Aneirin nodded.

"I still don't like it." muttered Nasuada. She looked doubtful, but Arya knew she would agree eventually. it was just a question of how long it took her to cave in to the inevitable.

Three days into the siege, they had no choice but to act. It had been Arya's idea that she take another elf sneak into the city, and attempt to open the gate from the inside. Now she, along with Blodgharm and Aneirin, were trying their hardest to persuade Nasuada that she had no alternative.

"With all due respect, my lady-" began Aneirin "You cannot wait for Shadeslayer's return indefinately. Anything could have happened to him. We don't know."

Nasuada shook her head stubbornly. "It's _you_ I'm worried about. Not Eragon."

"This is ridiculous, Nasuda." Said Arya suddenly. She ignored the irritated look the young woman cast her and plowed on. Gesturing in the direction of the city, she continued "Those are your men out there. They are _dying_. Now. You can stop that! Isn't that what you want?"

Nasuada opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sighed once, the sigh of someone who knows they are defeated.

"Just be careful."

_Xxxxxxxxx_

Arya slid her slender sword into its sheath, drawing her sword-belt tightly around her waist. Later, she would need it.

As she left the tent, she allowed herself one last look. The sun had already set, but it was not yet dark. The sky was forbidding. Heavy clouds were mounting to the north, beyond the city. That was the way Arya looked, to the north, towards Ellesmera. That was the way Eragon and Saphira would come, if they came tonight. For a moment Arya imagined the tiny dark figure of the dragon speeding southwards, but the steadily darkening sky held the real story.

Nothing.

Of course, she'd known there would be nothing... still. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Letting the tent flap fall into place behind her, she set off at a jog for the edge of the camp.

**A.N. To xxx: Thank you for the sweet review. I'm glad your enjoying it. I see your point about the elves, but I'm not entirely sure how to change it. I've written so much about it, and it helps my view of Arya, so I don't think I'll do anything drastic to change it. The ones I haven't mentioned can be older, I guess!**

**I've had almost entirely overwhelmingly positive feedback for the other story idea, so I'll go ahead with that, I think. I may start writing the chapters on holiday, so perhaps there'll be a new story when I get back! :)**

**Which leads me to the next thing I want to say: holiday. I may _possibly _get another chapter up before then, but I'm not making any promises. And with the laptop down, there's not much chance of being able to type them when I'm away. I'll write them the old fashioned way, on paper, but not type them. So, hang in there. the next one could be a while. see you in three weeks. or so.**


	45. Climbing

**A.N. Here we go… Sorry it's not very long, but as the next one is quite long and has lots of action, and you shouldn't have to wait **_**too**_** long for it, I hope you won't mind :) Enjoy.**

"Ready?" murmured Arya to Blodhgarm, who was standing beside her in the near darkness. Ahead of them, the main city wall of Fienster was a black mass against the sky.

"Ready as I ever will be, I suppose Drottningu." He replied quietly, and she saw the flash of his teeth, white in the dark. She nodded, drawing in a breath to calm her thudding heart as she checked her weapons for the fiftieth time.

_Any second now…_

Through the night came a low whistle. Instantly Arya and Blodhgarm bounded forward, quick and silent as cats in the night. Arya hit the wall the barest second before her companion, flattening herself against it.

They waited in the darkness, listening, ears straining for any noise beyond their own heartbeats.

Nothing. The city was as dark and silent as before.

Blodgharm took a coil of rope from about his shoulders, muttered a few words in the ancient language and threw it upwards. It settled on the battlements and he gave it an experimental tug.

Noise was building around the wall of the city, towards the door. The noise of battle. The Varden were moving in on the city gate. If the plan worked, the walls this side would be almost completely unguarded by now.

"After you, Drottningu?"

Arya felt a slight shiver run up her spine as she remembered another night, another wall, and someone else offering for her to climb first. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and shook herself very slightly.

_Stop it Arya! _She ordered herself. _Wishing he's here won't bring him. You're just wasting time._

"Drottningu! Aree you alright?" Blodhgarm's whisper cut through the night, shaking Arya out of her silent berating of herself.

"Fine." She whispered back, and as she spoke, she took hold of the rope in both hands, and began to climb.


	46. Caught

Arya pulled herself over the parapet and dropped into a crouch, glancing both ways. In the blackness of the night, she knew she would be almost invisible to any human guards, but she herself could see the full length of the walls in both directions. About twenty yards to her right, a man stood leaning against the parapet, wrapped in a long dark cloak.

Blodhgarm landed beside her, silent on his bare feet. He mirrored her crouching pose and raised his eyebrows in question.

Arya turned and pointed down the wall, towards the man. Blodhgarm nodded, and began to move past her towards the sentry. He crept along like a cat, but when he had crossed half the distance; the man stiffened and turned his head. He must have sharp ears, to have caught the noise of them over the noise coming from the gates,Arya thought as she froze. But Blodhgarm, apparently acting on instinct, sprung from his crouching position and ran at the man, snarling like a tiger. The soldier spun around and groped for his sword-hilt, but he was either too cold or too tired to stand the slightest chance. He crumpled up, and Blodhgarm caught him, carefully lowering him to the ground.

"Good thinking." Said Arya quietly, coming up behind him. The whole thing had been very quiet. Now they still potentially had the advantage of surprise on their side, and the sounds of the Varden beating on the gates continued to echo around the battlements.

The two elves began to move along the wall again towards their ultimate goal – the gates. Eventually, they reached a guard tower. It was dark and silent, but Arya stepped over the doorway carefully, holding her sword up in front of her defensively.

However, she needn't have worried. The room she now entered was empty and dark. She peered around, taking in the low stone ceiling and a set of simple wooden stairs leading upwards to the floor above. As she listened, voices drifted down through the hole. Opposite the doorway she now stood in was a second door. Arya glanced back at Blodhgarm, nodding towards the door she had seen. Carefully, she began to creep across the floor towards it, skirting around the stairs leading upwards. About half way into the room, a board under her foot creaked. She pulled up her foot quickly, but too late. The voices above paused.

"Did you hear that? Surely it's not time for the guards to change, is it?" The man sounded uncertain.

"No." another replied. "Anyway, we should all be getting to the gates – not that I'm worried. They're been trying to knock down the walls with that toothpick they call a battering ram for days now haven't they? I'll have a look who it is. " A foot appeared in the gap. Arya glanced at Blodhgarm. They had barely a second to act, but both made a lunge for the door. It was too late.

Arya had grabbed at the door-handle when the cry rang out behind her.

"_Elves!"_ She spun around, pulling up her sword and hastily throwing up mental barriers.

Not a moment too soon. The man was a spellcaster, and the first attack on her mind made Arya wince. She retaliated, stabbing out at him hard, and he let out a cry of pain.

There were shouts from above. Another man and a woman appeared on the stairs, clutching short swords. The woman began to weave a spell in the ancient language, and the other ran towards the door.

"_Blodh-garm_" choked Arya between her teeth. The man mustn't be allowed to raise the alarm. They were finished if he did. Blodhgarm leapt towards the man in the doorway, but jerked to a halt as the female spellcaster released her spell. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. Arya wrenched at the grip on her mind but the man she was fighting with was strong. The other man had reached the door and pulled it open. She could hear him yelling across the walls and redoubled her efforts. Blodgharm was still trapped, immobile, his face twisted with his efforts to throw of the female spellcaster's mind.

Arya heard, as if from a long way away, the man outside the door calling out. She concentrated hard and pushed at the mind of the man she was fighting. Gradually, she began to feel some give. _Not so strong then, _she thought as finally, the pressure eased. The man sagged, gasping for breath and grey in the face. He stared at her in horror, but Arya had joined her mind to Blodgharm's and leant him her strength. With the two of them working together, it didn't take them long to throw of the woman's mind. The moment Blodgharm was free, Arya ran to the door and wrenched it open. _Maybe we still have time to get to the gates,_ she thought desperately. _Maybe there's time-_

But was too late. As they rounded the next curve of the wall, they pulled up short. About fifty soldiers, armed and carrying torches, were running towards them. At the head of them, yelling and gesticulating wildly, was the spellcaster from the tower room. Arya glanced at Blodhgarm.

Then, in unison, they lifted their swords. It was time to triumph, or go down fighting.


	47. Rescued

**Brisingr, page 705**

**A.N. Sorry it was so long coming! **

Arya was backing up. She had been for a while, but there was no ignoring it now. For every one step forward or sideways to take advantage of an opening she was forced two steps back. Just as for every one soldier felled there were two to take his place. Her breathing was growing laboured and there was a long gash down her right arm. Their wards had long since given out.

_It's no good, Drottningu. _Blodhgarm's voice echoed in her head, heavy with exhaustion. _There are just too many._

Arya clenched her teeth. _Well, we'll just have to go down fighting then, won't we? _She replied. Blodhgarm did not answer, but a grim resolve came across the mental link before he severed it.

Arya's sword clanged, steel on steel and sparks flew. For some reason she remembered another fight now, as if her body was fighting the empire's soldiers here in Feinstr, but her mind was far away, on the Varden's training fields in Farthen Dur. Fighting a young man with a fierce face and sweat running in his eyes from under the light brown hair that hung over his forehead. A young man who had just saved her life.

But he wouldn't have killed her if she made a mistake.

Arya's back hit the wall and there was nowhere else she could go. To her right, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blodhgarm, his teeth bared, holding his sword up in front of himself. She did the same, staring at the circle of sword-points around her. Too late now. No more time.

And then, she heard something. A dragon's roar, that echoed and re-echoed around the walls, and suddenly, through the low-hanging black clouds, broke a huge sapphire-blue dragon, her jaws open as she swooped downwards.

The men in front of Arya broke and scattered as she bore down upon them, knocking men off the walls as she came. On her back, Eragon yelled and brandished above his head a sword. Before Arya's confused mind had time to take that in, Saphira had landed and Eragon threw himself off her back. The last of the soldiers had vanished.

Arya ran forward, Blodhgarm close behind.

"Eragon!" She called. "Welcome, Bjartskular. Welcome, Shadeslayer." Added Blodhgarm, who sounded remarkably calm and composed considering what Eragon and Saphira had just saved them from. The young Rider stared at them. Arya supposed they must look dreadful.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Arya shook her head, too out of breath to speak. "Blodhgarm answered for her. "A few scratches, but nothing serious."

_What are you doing here without reinforcements? _Asked Saphira.

"The gates… for three days, we've tried to break them, but they're impervious to magic, and the battering ram has barely dented the wood. So I convinced Nasuada to…" Arya ran out of breath and stopped, and Blodhgarm took over her narrative. As Arya caught her breath, she reflected on the fact that she had felt absolutely no desire to begin her explanation with the words _where in Alagaesia have you two been? _A moment later she realised why: She had been too happy to see them.

"Where are the spellcasters now?" Asked Eragon when Blodhgarm had finished. The blue-furred elf shrugged.

"They seem to have taken fright at your appearance, Shur'tugal."

_As well they should, _said Saphira. Arya suppressed a smile. It appeared Saphira hadn't changed at all in the time she'd been away.

"Well then," said Eragon, standing from where he'd been gathering energy from the dead soldiers, "Let's go open the gates for the Varden, shall we?"

"Yes, and without delay." Arya agreed. She started forward, then Eragon's new sword caught her eye and she stopped. "You have a new sword." She said.

He nodded. "Rhunon helped me to forge it."

"And what is the name of your new weapon, Shadeslayer?" Blodhgarm asked.

Eragon opened his mouth, to speak, but suddenly four soldiers ran out of a dark alleyway with levelled spears. He drew his sword and, with Arya and Blodhgarm behind him, attacked.

**A.N. You remember that fic I mentioned awhile ago, the other one about Arya? Well, I have good news: the first chapter is WRITTEN! Not typed out yet, and it might need a little tweaking, but the main thing is I don't have a title yet! I have no idea what to call it! Anyone got any thoughts? If you do I would be much obliged :)**


	48. Surrender

**Brisingr, page 708**

**(And again, sorry about the delay!)**

Arya slipped away from Eragon into the darkness, toward the gate-tower doors. On the Rider's other side, Blodhgarm mirrored her movement and crept towards the other tower, his feet making no noise on the stones lining the street.

Arya reached the low wooden door without being spotted, and held her breath as she pushed it open. Blodhgarm had vanished in the darkness on the other side of the group of soldiers, but none of them seemed to have noticed him either.

As Arya slipped as silently as she could through the doorway, she heard Eragon's voice echoing around the square.

_What's he doing? _She wondered as she climbed, sword held in front of her warily. Odd words drifted to her inside the dark staircase.

"Swear… Lady Lorana… Murtagh… Driven him off… What… Dragon Rider…"

_He's trying to convince them to surrender! _She realised with a jolt. Why, though? It wouldn't have occurred to her, she admitted as she crept closer to the room that held the gears for opening the gates. She would have gone in swinging her sword and thought afterwards.

And yet… she hadn't always been like that. Was that how seventy years among humans had changed her? And if so, why was Eragon different? She had no excuse; she had grown up among elves whose value for life was higher than any other sentient being in Alagaesia. Hadn't that meant anything to her?

Arya shook her head. This was no place for such ramblings; she had a job to do. She turned another corner of stair and saw light spilling into the staircase. She lifted her slender sword and took a deep breath, bursting into the guard-room.


	49. Revelations

**Brisingr, page ****712**

**I think this is the first chapter in ages I haven't had to being with 'I'm sorry about the delay…' But anyway. This is for xx myth master xx, for reviewing faithfully and helping me get this chapter up that little bit faster ;) So cheers for xx myth master xx! =D**

The gates were open and the soldiers of the Varden spilled into the city, waving their swords above their heads and yelling. Arya ran into the square, wiping clean her sword, and saw Eragon and Roran standing together by the gate. She walked over to them, joined almost immediately by Blodhgarm and the other eleven elves.

Eragon glanced around and opened his mouth, but at that moment Jormunder rode through the gates and called out to him. They conversed briefly, but Arya wasn't listening. Her eyes skated over Eragon again and again. Something had changed. What? Somehow, she couldn't place it, but the change was familiar. A change like this had happened to him before, but yet… not like this. Like… Suddenly, she remembered. After he fought Murtagh. The battle of the burning plains. Eragon had come out of that fight with darkness behind his eyes. A shadow had dropped over him, faint as to be unnoticeable to anyone that didn't know him as well as Arya did.

Now… now it was gone. Something had happened while he'd been in Ellesmira. He'd found something out. Something that had changed him.

_But what?_

Arya didn't have to wonder for long. As she turned to follow Jormunder, Eragon tapped her sword blade with his own. "Wait!"

"What?" She turned back. Roran did too. He also appeared impatient.

"My father!" Eragon exclaimed. He looked between Arya and Roran, his eyes bright. "It's not Morzan, it's Brom!"

Roran blinked. "Brom?"

"Yes, Brom!" Eragon's face was shining as he nodded.

"Are you sure, Eragon? How do you know?" Arya asked. It seemed impossible, but still… _Brom. _Memories began to run through Arya's mind as she looked at Eragon. _Brom… _Yes. Brom. Somehow, she didn't know how, but she knew. Brom _was _Eragon's father.

"Of course I'm sure!" Eragon exclaimed impatiently. "I'll explain later, but I couldn't wait to tell you the truth."

Arya moved away as the cousins exchanged a few more words, but before she had gone more than a few steps Eragon called out.

"Arya!"

"What, Eragon?"

Eragon's eyes were serious. "The Cripple Who Is Whole has left Du Weldenvarden and joined Islanzadi at Gil'ead

Arya stared at him. The blood was rushing in her ears. Blodhgarm said something, but she didn't hear him. Oromis was going to Gil'ead. Going to fight.

And she was scared.

**Oh, and another thing: the other Arya**** story has been started. Stars in a Sea of Darkness, go check that out :)**

**Oh, and review, please! :)**


	50. Fear

Arya wrapped her sword arm around Eragon's waist and held on tightly as the city dropped away beneath them. She was still not entirely used to the sensation of nothingness below her.

She leaned forward slightly and spoke in Eragon's ear. "You should not abandon your guards so lightly."

Eragon shifted slightly as if to reply, when suddenly he jerked in her arms. Arya had barely time to register this before she had an altogether more pressing problem to think about; Saphira had slipped sideways in the air and seemed to have lost control. They were falling!

_Saphira! _Arya cried out in her mind, but there was no reply. Before she could do anything else, Eragon started awake, drawing a gasping breath. Saphira spread her wings and levelled out. _Did you see that as well? _The dragon asked her Rider. _I did. _He replied in a worried tone, glancing backwards.

Arya understood none of this. All she understood was that they had nearly fallen out of the sky, and Eragon and Saphira appeared to have seen something. Whatever that something was, she had no idea. When her heart-rate had slowed down enough for her to speak, she managed to ask,

"What is wrong?"

_Oromis and Glaedr are about to fight Thorn and Murtagh. _Saphira replied grimly. Arya stiffened. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't this. And again, fear dug at her heart.

"How do you know?" She asked.

"I'll explain later. I just hope they don't get hurt." Eragon said briefly.

"As do I." Arya replied, but she didn't see how that would be possible. _They aren't strong enough for this!_

**A.N. Oooh, it's getting exciting, isn't it? Do you think we could break the 200 review mark by the next chapter, possibly? Pretty please? :)**


	51. Shade

No sounds came from below them, but Eragon and Arya moved as quietly as they could once they had entered the keep. For all they knew, the place was deserted. But it could equally easily be a trap.

As they passed through the first room, some kind of armoury, Arya felt the presence of magic below her. Four minds, human she was almost sure, seemed to be engaged in complicated mental activity. Another, also human, and almost definitely female, was nearby, not working magic. Instead, this one seemed in a state of extreme anxiety and fear, so much so that Arya could find nothing else as she probed at her mind.

She set up the guards around her own mind, and beside her she felt Eragon do the same. Whatever was going on below, it would be as well to be protected.

Eragon touched her arm. "Did you feel that?" he hissed. Arya nodded. She was berating herself for their foolishness. _Why had they come in here alone?_ Foolish arrogance, to think they could deal with whatever the king had in store for them.

"We should have brought Blodhgarm with us." She said. Too late now, of course.

Together they passed through the doors and came to a vast wooden staircase, leading downwards to a huge, wood-panelled room hung with many oil paintings. It was lit by a single chandelier made of panes of glass. At the other side of the room sat a stout middle-aged human woman in a purple dress, her face set and expressionless. But between her and the stairs where Eragon and Arya stood, in the centre of the room, stood the three spellcasters from before, arranged in a triangle around another man, who shuddered and grimaced as if in pain. All three of them had their eyes shut, and swayed from side to side, chanting in the ancient language.

A chill went through Arya as she looked at them. She had no idea what they were doing, and she didn't like that. It meant that whatever they were planning, she and Eragon were totally unprepared to deal with it. She sent a mental stab at one of the men, and hit a solid wall. The man's mind was so well defended she could find no chink in it. She opened her eyes and saw Eragon watching her with a slight from.

"They were trained well." She whispered.

"Do you know what they're doing?" he asked quietly. She shook her head.

Then the woman beyond the spellcasters looked up and saw them. To Arya's astonishment, she did not call out or raise the alarm in any way. Instead, she lifted her finger to her lips and beckoned. Arya looked at Eragon. He appeared as confused as she was.

"It could be a trap…" He murmured, voicing her first thought.

"It most likely is." She agreed matter-of-factly.

He frowned. "What should we do?"

"Is Saphira almost here?"

"Yes."

Arya made a quick decision. "Then let us go and meet our host."

They crept down the stairs, all the time watching the spellcasters warily. But none of them looked up, and they reached the woman Arya was sure was Lady Lorana without incident.

"Are you Lady Lorana?" Arya greeted the woman softly.

She nodded once. "That I am, fair elf." She looked at Eragon. "Are you the Dragon Rider of whom we have heard so much recently? Are you Eragon Shadeslayer?"

"I am." Replied Eragon calmly.

The woman sighed with something like relief. "Ah, I had hoped you would come. You must stop them, Shadeslayer." She gestured at the magicians, still oblivious to everything around them.

"Why don't you order them to surrender?" asked Eragon quietly.

"I cannot," she replied, a pained expression crossing her face briefly. "They answer only to the king and his new Rider,"

Arya glanced quickly at Eragon, but he seemed unaffected by the mention of his brother – _no_, she reminded herself quickly. _Half-brother._

Lady Lorana continued, "I have sworn myself to Galbatorix – I had no choice in the matter – so I cannot raise a hand against him or his servants; otherwise, I would have arranged their destruction myself.

"Why?" Arya asked, a chill shooting through her in apprehension of the answer. "What is it you fear so much?"

The skin around Lady Lorana's eyes tightened. "They know they cannot hope to drive off the Varden as they are, and Galbatorix has not sent reinforcements to our aid. So they are attempting, I don't know how, to create a Shade in the hope that the monster will turn against the Varden and spread sorrow and confusion throughout your ranks."

_A Shade._ As Lady Lorana finished speaking, Arya looked at Eragon, her heart filling with a deep dread.

A _Shade._

**A.N. ****Hey! 205 reviews, I love you guys! (well not really, as I don't know any of you, and that would be weird, but still…) Thank you!**

**To riptide: Thanks, glad you liked the story :) hope you keep enjoying it.**


	52. Glaedr

**A.N. Hey, guys… yeah. I don't like this one all that much, but hey, I'll admit it, this part is boring me. I want to get on! The shade! Drama! Excitement! **_**Eragon and Arya hugging! **_**So on we push… ;)**

**Brisingr, page 727**

The spellcasters swayed from side to side, chanting in the ancient language. Their eyes were open but they seemed to see nothing. Hear nothing. Even when Saphira crashed through the wall and roared her defiance to the whole room, to the whole of Feinster, none of them looked up, none of them turned, none of them broke the rhythm of their chanting.

It was eerie, approaching them with her sword up and Eragon beside her, that chanting echoing around and around the room, hanging in the dusty air.

Arya was scared. Too scared, more scared than she should be, and she knew why. She couldn't do this again. Not a _shade_. Not another Durza.

_It's not the same, Arya, you're stronger now, Eragon's here, Saphira's here, we can stop them before they even finish..._

No matter how many times she ran over and over her reassurance in her head, it made no difference. Fear doesn't listen to excuses. It doesn't need reasons. And Arya was scared.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eragon falter. She carried on another half-stride before she realized what had happened and spun around. He was falling, his eyes closed and an expression of horror on his face. Arya twisted again to see Saphira on the other side of the room. She too had fallen and her tail thrashed from side to side. Lady Lorana screamed and still the spellcasters chanted. The noise was getting to Arya like she was in a nightmare. She couldn't focus, she could think. She looked again at Eragon, falling to her knees beside him. What was going on?

She pressed a hand to the side of his face, closing her eyes in concentration. She swallowed hard and gently probed his mind-

_Gleadr! Glaedr falling! Thorn! Armies, fighting, pain, Oromis-_

Arya wrenched herself from Eragon's mind and stared at him, gasping for breath as her mind scrambled for an explanation. _What-?_

He jerked and coughed, eyes flying open. He stared at Arya and she saw the same fear behind his eyes that was growing in her own mind.

She laid a hand on his arm and helped him to his feet. He was shaking and his face was white.

"What happened?" She demanded quietly. "How can you know what Glaedr is thinking from so far away, and when his mind is closed even to Oromis? Forgive me for touching your thoughts without your permission, Eragon, but I was worried about your welfare. What sort of a bond do you and Saphira share with Gleadr?"

Eragon did not meet her eyes. "Later." He said, turning again to the spellcasters, who were still filling the large room with the sound of their chanting.

Arya stared at him, frowning. "Did Oromis give you an amulet or some other trinket that allows you to contact Gleadr?"

Eragon jerked his head, as if brushing off an irksome fly. "It would take to long to explain. Later, I promise."

Arya looked back at him for a moment, wondering whether to press it. She decided not to, now. "I shall hold you to that promise."

Eragon nodded once, then the three turned again to the spellcasters, raising their swords.

**A.N. Oh, and I forgot to say last time, Thanks to Riptide for the anonymous review :) I'm glad you liked the story. **

**I've been manipulated into a bit of advertising here… ****My sister (**_**SilverTongueabc**_**) is sitting next to me. She has just told me to tell you to read her stories. Because she is depressed that she has no reviews. So go and read her stories. At least one. Pretty please? For me? *cute face***


	53. Spirits

**A.N. Here we go!**

**Brisingr, page 729**

_Clang, clang, clang-_

Arya, Eragon and Saphira beat relentlessly on the spellcasters defences. Again and again their blows were deflected.

Arya's breathing was growing ragged. Her arms trembled very slightly as she raised her sword to hack at the man, and her lungs burned with every breath she took. But she gritted her teeth and pushed on.

Finally, something gave beneath Brisingr and the blade fell on the man, slicing off his head. He collapsed on the floor and Eragon staggered, grimacing.

They moved on, and repeated the process. This time it was Saphira's blow that broke the hidden barrier. She knocked the man through the air with her claws. He flew headfirst into the stone staircase and crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

Eragon and Arya turned on the final spellcaster, the woman, but as they did so, a bright light filled the room. A group of shimmering, pulsing spheres rushed through the broken shutters at the windows and converged on the kneeling man. He screamed once, a shrill, desperate cry of pure terror, and the light engulfed him.

The whole room seemed to crackle with energy. Arya felt first hot, then cold. Her skin pricked and a sour taste filled her mouth. The female spellcaster's hair stood on end. Saphira arched her back and hissed like an angry cat. Eragon stiffened and a look of horror overspread his features. Arya knew her own face was exactly the same.

Again the man screamed. Eragon bit his lip. Then, as Arya looked on, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.

**A.N. Oh the drama! It's killing me! And if you don't want to wait much longer to relieve the tension (I know we all know what's coming but I don't care, you know what I mean!) then REVIEW!**


	54. Pressure

Arya stared in horror at the scene before her. Eragon lay on the floor, thrashing wildly, his eyes closed. For a brief, irrational moment Arya was reminded of the old wound, the one inflicted by that other shade, not so long ago. But that wound was gone. This was something different...

This shade turned his head slowly to look at Saphira. She was curled, tense, her tail thrashing from side to side, her eyes wide with fear.

_Arya! Oromis and-_

But that was as far as she got before the shade, with a contemptuous sneer, flicked his hand towards her. Arya felt the energy that exploded in the room, all of it directed at Saphira. She was blasted backwards as if she weighed no more than a leaf and crashed into the opposite wall where she lay limply. Suddenly, the female spellcaster began screaming. She was shouting at the shade, gesticulating. For the barest instant he stared at her. Then he lifted his hand and pointed one finger at her. A sword rose slowly from where it had fallen by the fat spellcaster and shot towards the woman, who stood stock still, an expression of horror on her face. For a moment Arya almost felt sorry for her, then the thought crossed her mind that after all, it was all her own fault. The sword struck the woman down and the shade turned his head on Arya, smiling. She stared back at him, her heart thudding wildly.

_Control yourself, Arya! This isn't Durza, you can deal with this..._

But she knew she couldn't. Not alone. Her chances of defeating this shade without help, tired as she was, were very poor, and she knew it. She knew it only too well. But she had no choice. So she raised her sword, yelled something incomprehensible and charged.

The shade tensed. Before Arya had gone two strides she felt her mind seized in a mighty grip. She struggled in vain against the tightening pressure and the effort forced her to her knees. The shade held out his hand and made a squeezing motion, his red eyes alive with a malicious pleasure. Arya's mind exploded with pain and she screamed out involuntarily. This shade was worse than Durza, much worse..._The pain... She was going mad... No more..._

Suddenly the pressure eased a little. Arya was crouched before the shade, coughing and gasping for breath, her sword lying useless beside her. Eragon and Saphira were still out cold.

Then the shade lunged forward and grabbed Arya by the throat. As if she weighed no more than a rag doll, he lifted her off her feet, holding her by the neck.

Arya stared down into those merciless red eyes, so like Durza's, and thought _So that's it then. I'm going to die. It was all for nothing. _

The shade began to crush Arya's throat in his hand. His grip was vice-like. Soon all she could see was his eyes, horrible cruel red eyes floating in black smoke. It seemed to be swallowing everything, that smoke. She couldn't breathe.

_It was all for nothing... For nothing..._

_Nothing left._

**A.N. Three chapters in three days! wow, or what? Right. The next chapter is the big one. I promise. Enough build-up. And it's already written, I just need to type it out. :)**


	55. Shadeslayer

**This is it guys… this is the big one.**** I'm weirdly nervous now. We've all been building up to this… is it good enough? Never mind… read it anyway.**

**Brisingr, page 736**

The pressure eased and Arya gasped for air. The shade snarled and jerked his head, turning his attention away from the struggling elf he held by the neck.

Arya drew another desperate gulp of oxygen and the black spots started to clear from her eyes.

The shade turned his head and looked down at something behind Arya, where Eragon had lain a moment before. Arya struggled to twist her head around to see what he was looking at. Had Eragon woken?

The shaped grinned horribly, revealing sharp spiked teeth. "Our name is Varaug." He said, tightening his grip on Arya's neck. She gasped.

"Fear us."

Arya kicked at the shade, but she might as well have been kicking a stone pillar for all the notice he took of her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eragon struggling to his feet. The shade snarled and Eragon froze, his face contorting as he fought off the invisible attack of the shade's mind. Arya clenched her teeth. She felt totally helpless, up here off the ground, struggling to draw even shallow breaths. Her situation had improved since Eragon woke, but not by much. _How in Alagaesia are we going to get out of this?_

The hand on her throat tightened, as if the shade had read her mind. The black smoke that had filled her vision was returning a she struggled to force oxygen into her lungs. She couldn't breathe… She was suffocating…

Even through his focus on Eragon, the shade seemed to grin at her desperation and Arya suddenly felt furious. Summoning all her strength, she struck at his arm as hard as she could. Not as hard as she would have been able to normally, but hard enough. It gave way beneath her hand with a very satisfying crack.

Varaug's arm dropped until Arya's toes brushed the floor, but then he lifted her again and she saw with horror that the bone had mended itself. He growled something Arya could not hear and she saw Eragon rise to his feet, a look of steely determination crossing his face.

The two began to wrestle mentally. Arya was still suspended in mid-air, but the shade was prevented from squeezing her neck any harder, and she could breathe. Just. She struggled against Varaug's grip and willed Eragon to succeed. But he was flagging, failing, his concentration wavering, and Arya saw triumph on the shade's twisted features.

In desperation she reached up and seized his wrist, twisting as hard as she could. He roared in fury and Arya wrenched the hand from around her throat. She landed on the ground at his feet, gasping for air.

She rolled over, avoiding his kicks, and saw Eragon standing transfixed, his face contorted as he struggled against the spirits held captive within the shade.

Arya reached for her sword, just beyond the reach of her fingertips.

_So near, so far…_

Her hand closed round the hilt and she shade screamed, falling on her. They rolled across the floor, Arya's whole being and attention focused on the sword between her hands, on gaining control of it.

She had it. She shouted and struck Varaug on the temple with all her strength. He went limp. Instantly Arya scrambled backwards, gripping her sword-hilt as if it connected her to life itself.

The shade tried to rise again, but Eragon was on him again mentally, holding him down, containing him, crushing him.

Varaug rose to one knee and faltered, his face twisted in fury. Arya heard Eragon yelling. "_Get him!_" She gripped the sword and lunged forward desperately, without thinking or aiming.

She felt the blade go deep into the shade's chest. He screamed again and pulled himself backwards, but it was too late. Much too late…

Varaug raised one hand and his skin faded, becoming transparent. Arya had seen this before, but she watched with horrified fascination as he burst apart and the spirits within him scattered, passing through the thick stone walls as if they didn't exist.

Arya drew a very deep breath, and sat down hard on the stone floor.

**A.N. Oh, and one other slightly minor thingumy… it's my birthday today! A special birthday too, though I don't think I should tell you which one, because of personal information and all that… but yeah. ****Not just any old birthday. **

**And if **_**that's**_** not reason enough to review, I don't know what is… :)**


	56. Mourning

**Brsingr, page 738**

Arya drew a rasping breath. Her throat burned like she had drunken acid, but she had to breathe, or she would die… had to keep breathing, but it hurt so much… She should heal it, she thought, but taking in enough air to speak – could she do that?

Through a slight haze, she saw Eragon standing beside her looking impossibly tired. She tried to say something, but the effort set her coughing blood. She felt his hand, warm and rough, slip over hers and heard his voice, quiet by her ear.

"_Waise hael_."

_No_… The thought slipped into her mind, a quiet, ineffectual protest. _He shouldn't… he's so tired…_

But already the pain had eased and she was able to draw a proper, full breath. Eragon buckled slightly beside her, clutching at a chair for support. He smiled at her.

"Better?"

She dredged up a smile from somewhere. "Better." A kind of wonder was filling her. They had killed a shade! And it was not the first such creature that they had destroyed between them. She gestured at where Varaug had been.

"We killed him." She said quietly. "We killed him, and yet we did not die." He was looking at her calmly, seeming to have no desire to say anything.

"So few have killed a shade and lived."

"That is because they fought alone, not together like us." Again, Arya was amazed at the simple wisdom he displayed to her.

"No, not like us." It was true. How else could anyone see it?

"I had you to help me in Farthen Dur, and you had me to help you here."  
"Yes."

"Now I shall have to call you Shadeslayer."

"We are both-" Arya wasn't sure how she would have finished the sentence. Both Shadeslayers? Both heroes, now? But before she could finish, Saphira began to wail, a piercing keen of desperate pain. Though her mind was open, all that came from it was an overwhelming sense of loss. A stab of fear went through Arya.

"Saphira what is it?" she demanded, but it was Eragon who answered, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke.

"Oromis and Glaedr are dead. Galbatorix killed them." Arya stared at him, and the room swayed around her. Oromis, Glaedr? Dead? How could those words be linked together in one sentence?

How could _Oromis_ be dead? Powerful, wise, kind Oromis, who had been like a father to her ever since her own father had died, Oromis, who'd known the answer to any and every question she'd taken to him, taught her every song and spell of her childhood? How could huge golden Glaedr, who was always so gentle and kind to her, be gone forever?

Arya felt tears begin to run in hot trails down her cheeks. She had a vague feeling that she shouldn't be crying here, with Eragon beside her, but suddenly she didn't care. He was here, and he understood. They both did. That was what mattered.

She reached out to grip his shoulder and suddenly, somehow, his arms were round her and she had buried her face in his shoulder as heaving sobs racked her body again and again.

And they stood there, among the ruin of battle and the despair of death, and Arya sobbed.

She sobbed for Oromis and Glaedr, but in a strange way, her mourning encompassed more than simply them. She sobbed for Faolin, and Glenwing, and Brom, and Ajihod, and her father, and everyone who Galbatorix's madness and hunger for power had destroyed. She sobbed for herself and for Eragon.

_He shouldn't be here… _The thought ran through her mind again and again. _He's just a boy… He shouldn't have had to live through these terrible things… _But she still couldn't manage to feel sad that he was. She was glad he was here. Glad he could stand here with her and hold her and comfort her. It was a selfish gladness, but she couldn't help it, all the same.

And all the while, the tears ran down her cheeks and wet his shoulder as he held her in his arms.

They remained that was for a long time, and gradually Arya recovered, though a dull ache had settled in her chest which she didn't think would shift very soon. But for some reason she felt better. Better, but incredibly, impossibly tired, and without Eragon's arms round her she was sure she would simply collapse.

Eventually, they pulled apart. Arya drew a deep breath.

"How did it happen?"

**A.N. Well. I feel quite drained now. I hope that was enough 'Arya' for you guys? It was all about her emotions and stuff, but anyway…**

**A little tip. If you're trying to write sad stuff, write it listening to Adele. Sad Adele songs. Nothing like it. Great singer. Anyways… review now, please? :) **


	57. Necessary

**Brisingr, page 743**

**(i wanted to call it 'Alive' but I already have a chapter called that. This one-word title thing seeemed such a good idea at the beginning...)**

Why was it necessary, Arya thought with a pang, as Eragon spoke in a dry monotone about his trainers and mentors, her dear friends. _Dead and gone..._ why was it necessary to re-live this pain, to have to relate memories that would only torment them in the weeks and months to come anyway?

And again, she answered herself, as she knew she always would. Because she had to. Because it _was_ necessary for Nasuada to know this. Necessary to her ability to lead the Varden, necessary to the war effort, necessary to kill Galbatorix. That was what it all came down to in the end. To kill Galbatorix. That was why Oromis had had to die. And Glaedr. And Faolin. And others, so many others, and the countless more that would die to bring the tyrant's reign to an end... and Nasuada might be one of them. Or Arya herself. Or even, somehow worst of all, Eragon. That he might have to make the ultimate sacrifice to the cause which had been forced on him, almost without his being aware of it... the cause he had embraced. He might have to die. Lots of others had. Arya had killed many of them herself. They haunted her dreams, and their wives cried alone at night, and their children starved with no-one to provide for them. And for what? More death.

And suddenly Arya felt impossibly weary and helpless.

Eragon fell silent, and the room was still briefly. Even Saphira paused her soft, mournful keening. Then Nasuada sighed and spoke. "I wish I could have known them, but alas, it was not to be...There is one thing I still do not understand, Eragon. You said you _heard_ Galbatorix speaking to them. How could you?"

"Yes, I would like to know that as well." Added Arya quietly.

Eragon coughed, glancing around. But there was nothing here for his dry throat. So he began to speak again, of the time he and Saphira had been away. He told them of his unsuccessful search for a sword, his visit to Sloan, Oromis' revelation of his parentage. He told them of his agreement with the Menoa tree, and how Saphira had used fire to get her attention. At that point in the story, Arya had felt a slight chill run up her spine. What had she taken? What did she want? Arya knew the power of the Menoa tree, and the respect and love the elves held for her, and she knew that Eragon and Saphira might very possibly live to bitterly regret their actions.

Eragon told them also of his night forging Brisingr with Rhunon. And last of all, in a quiet, tired voice, he told them about the dragons' heart of hearts.

_The dragons are alive... Alive!... Captive, but alive...We can save them! _Arya's mind was spinning. Alive, all this time! Glaedr, alive! She barely heard Nasuada's voice as she stood.

"The dragons are still alive!" She saw Eragon and Nasuada turn to look at her and realised she had spoken out loud. "They are still alive after all these years! Oh, if only we could tell the rest of my race. How they would rejoice! And how terribly their wrath would be when they learned of the enslavement of the Eldunari! We would run straight to Uru'baen and not rest until we had freed the heats from Galbatorix's control, no matter how many of us died in the process."

Arya felt suddenly fiercely alive. The listlessness which had overtaken her had lessened. Because here was news of life, not death, survival, not destruction!

_But we cannot tell them_, said Saphira.

"No." Arya looked downwards, at the dusty earth beneath her feet. "We cannot. But I wish we could."

Arya felt Nasuada's eyes on her, and knew what she was going to say.

"Please do not take offense, but I wish that your mother, Queen Islanzadi, had seen fit to share this information with us. We could have made use of it."

Arya nodded. It was true. For several reasons...

Nasuada and Eragon talked on about the significance of the discovery, how it could be used to their advantage... But as they spoke, Arya watched Eragon. His face, his voice... now she knew, it really was obvious. And it would also make sense of a question that had been niggling gently at the back of her mind for a very long time now...

He turned his head suddenly and frowned questioningly at her.

"I always wondered," she began, "why Saphira's egg appeared to you, and not somewhere in an empty field. It seemed to great a coincidence to have occurred purely be chance, but I could not think of any plausible explanation. Now I understand. I should have guessed that you were Brom's son. I did not know him well, but I knew him, and you share a certain resemblance."

"I do?" Eragon's face was doubting, wondering, as he asked the question, but there was also a kind of joy. He was happy to call Brom his father. As happy as she or Saphira or he himself had been to learn that the dragons still lived on.

And Arya wondered, as she seldom had had cause to before, at the kindness of fate, who had, as if to balance the grief of loss, presented all three of them with treasures.

**A.N. I'm not sure about the ending, but i wanted to wrap it up. And you may be pleased to know that I have the next chapter written as well. I just have to type it up :)**


	58. Sunrise

**Brisingr, page… something. I can't be bothered to go and find the book, it's right at the top of the house, ok? The VERY LAST PAGE! You guys can find that, I think ;)**

Arya emerged from the meeting with Nasuada filled with strangely conflicting emotions. The elation of discovering the existence of the dragons' heart of hearts battled with grief over the death of Oromis, the closest thing to a father she had had for most of her life.

She was exhausted and alert in equal measure. Her eyes could barely stay open and yet her body was tense and buzzing with adrenaline. Her mouth felt gritty and there was a pain in her chest, like someone was twisting a knife in her heart with every breath she took.

Eragon, Saphira, Blodhgarm and the other elves set off towards the gates of the city and the Varden camp beyond, but instead of following them, Arya turned in the opposite direction.

She began to walk aimlessly, alone in a ruined city. Occasionally she came across soldiers of the Varden, who greeted her with cheers and cries of "Shadeslayer! Shadeslayer!"

_How do they know? _She wondered dully._ How do they know, when I hardly know myself?_

After a while she met them no more.

_Oromis is gone._

_The dragons live!_

_So many dead._

_I killed a shade!_

_So many…_

_So much fighting…_

_So tired…_

Arya wandered aimlessly. The cobbled streets were empty of life, save for her, one small elf alone in the grey half-light that precedes dawn. Alone with her thoughts.

She took no particular route, but eventually found herself staring at what must once have been the main front doors of the keep. They had been blasted apart.

Arya stepped over a shattered wooden beam and crossed into the empty building. Without really knowing why or even noticing what she was doing, she began to climb.

It was strange, and a little eerie, to walk through that totally silent building that barely ten hours ago had been filled with life and noise. Nothing moved now, except for a small dog that took fright at Arya's appearance and ran away to another room, howling.

And eventually, nearly an hour after leaving Nasuada, Arya found herself standing on the parapet of the keep at the very highest point of the Fienstr and gazing outwards and downwards.

The sun was rising over a ruined city. Smoke and flames still rose in places, and the majority of the houses were blackened and scorched. Vultures circled above the pile of bodies someone had removed to outside the city walls.

Arya's attention was caught by something away down to her right – a flash of sapphire blue reflecting the sunrise. She squinted down across the roofs, sure of what her would see, and she was right. There, facing away from her across the city, against the rising sun, stood the still figures of a man and a dragon.

As Arya watched, the man lifted a large golden object from her chest and held it above his head, as if offering it to the sunrise, or the new day. Arya smiled, despite the ache in her heart.

Eragon. He hadn't given up. Of course he hadn't. That wasn't Eragon's nature. He had proved that time and time again. He could have given up when his uncle died, when he realized just how much being a Dragon Rider meant. Or when Brom died, or when the shade crippled him, when merely reaching out a hand a little too far left him writhing on the floor in agony. Or now. Countless times he could have despaired. But not Eragon.

Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom, last free Rider in all of Alagaesia, she had proved beyond all doubt that he had left the simple farm boy behind long ago. He was a man now, a man and a warrior. A leader, a symbol of hope.

Her friend.

Friend? Arya considered. The joy and relief of victory coupled with grief over Oromis' death and her extreme exhaustion made Arya dangerously honest with herself. Friend, or more? She didn't know. Not yet.

Perhaps one day, she would know for certain. But for now, there was celebration, and grieving, and they had a job to do. To kill Galbatorix.

That was what was important now. But someday, perhaps. If they succeeded. If. Then maybe there would be real happiness.

Perhaps she could learn to move on. Learn to live again.

Perhaps.

**A.N. And so… the end of Brisingr! And with only 8 days to go! So, my friends, watch this space…**

**Peace out (for now!)**

**~InkWeaverabc**


	59. Apologies and Farewells

Hey, people.

So I'm assuming by now that most of you have read Inheritance? I mean, it has been… oh gosh, I don't want to know how long it's been, cause that's how long I've been leaving you in the dark.

I'm sorry.

I haven't much of an excuse except that the ending of Inheritance put me off the series in a major, ok-that's-possibly-for-the-rest-of-my-life way. That phase has ended, I think.

For a while I told myself I'd finish the story. Then I said I'd do a few chapters, the bits I liked, you know.

Then I started looking at the amount of work I had to do for my GCSEs (and my AS-levels start next year) and began to think… I'm not sure I can do this. By then I was already thinking 'I definitely don't want to do this'.

So, yeah. I think that's it. I prefer the 'oh, possibly, maybe, one day' ending I gave Eragon/Arya than the one in the book, and I think it's better this way.

I am really sorry that I didn't tell you guys this earlier, and I've been pretty lazy, but it's just a story, and it was just a hobby for me, and I don't want to (and quite probably can't) do it anymore.

As I say, I'm sorry. Hope you don't mind that much.

Thank you all – you've been amazing readers. This story has been an epic one to write ( to be honest, I never thought I'd get this far!) and I've enjoyed it, but as they say, all good things must come to an end, hopefully before they become Bad Things, which I think POFAI would if I forced myself to go on.

In summary: That's all, folks. Sorry I took so long to tell you. And lastly, thanks very much for listening ;)

Peace out, keep writing, and never stop hating CP's guts for sending Eragon away :)

~Inkie


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